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Book . /G ^ g 



GoipglitN". 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



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POEMS 



BY 

JOHN F. GONTRUM 



BALTIMORE, MD. 
1911 



7^^1 



53- 



Copyright, 191 i 

BY 

JOHN B. GONTRUM 



BALTIMORE, MD., U. S. A. 



©G!.A:ahG5G4 



3fot)n JF* (©antrum 

John F. Gontrum, the author of this volume of 
poems, was born at Gardenville, Baltimore County, 
Maryland, February 16, 1857. His father was a promi- 
nent farmer, of Gardenville, and was for two terms 
Judge of the Orphans' Court of Baltimore County. 
His mother was Caroline Kinzley, daughter of Jacob 
Kinzley, an alumnus of Heidelberg University, and a 
man of considerable literary ability. Both his father 
and mother came to America from Germany with their 
parents at a very early age. 

During the first nine years of his life, young Gon- 
trum attended the country schools of the neighbor- 
hood, one of which was the German-Lutheran Parochial 
School, taught by Mr. Edward F. Leyh, the well-known 
German- American poet; while here a strong friendship 
grew up between the old poet and the young student 
which lasted until the former's death. At the age of 
nine he went to Knapp's German-English School, of 
Baltimore, where, at the age of fifteen, he graduated at 
the head of a class of forty members. 

It was while attending Knapp's School that the boy 
first showed signs of his poetic ability. From the time 
when he was first able to toddle from his mother's knee 

3 



down to the forest that ran close up to the rambling old 
farm house, he had shown a passionate love for every- 
thing that pertained to nature, and had spent most of 
his time roaming among the hills and streams of the 
beautiful country where he lived. At school he had 
shown an unusual aptitude for writing, and naturally 
enough, with his overwhelming love for the beautiful, 
his words took the form of poetry. His first poem, " A 
Summer Night in the Village/^ was published in The 
Maryland Journal, when he was only twelve years of age. 

A year after leaving Knapp's School, he went to 
Bethel Military Academy, Fauquier County, Virginia. 
Here he stood high in his classes, winning the medals in 
Latin and Science. After spending a year at Bethel 
Academy, he entered St. John's College, Annapolis, 
where he graduated with the degree of Bachelor of Arts 
in the class of 1878. At this historic old institution, 
four of the happiest year of the poet's life were spent, 
and in after life he never wearied of talking of " dear 
old St. John's.'' While at college Mr. Gontrum started 
the St. John's Collegian, a monthly paper, which is 
still published. He was also class historian, and in his 
graduating year took one of the highest honors the col- 
lege offered, the fifty-dollar gold medal given by Bishop 
Pinkney for the best essay on Butler's Analogy. 

Mr. Gontrum had always desired a journalistic career, 
but to please his father gave up this ambition, and on 
leaving St. John's took up the study of law, and after 
two years' preparation was admitted to the Maryland 
Bar, and opened his ofiice at Towson in 1880. Although 



never in love with the law, Mr. Gontrum rose rapidly in 
his profession and was soon recognized as one of the most 
brilliant lawyers of the State. 

In 1884 he married Miss Mary Helen Biddison, of 
Gardenville, and settled in the neighborhood where he 
was bom. Seven children were born of the marriage, 
five of whom survived Mr. Gontrum. The twenty years 
following his marriage were years of great happiness to 
the poet. His home life was ideal. Devoted to home, 
he never left except when called away on business or to 
help someone in trouble, and his gentle nature, bright 
spirits and witty sayings made him the life of the house- 
hold. In 1905 the baby of the family, Katherine, the 
idol of her father^s heart, died after a short illness, and 
from her death Mr. Gontrum never fully recovered. 

Although the law proved an exceedingly jealous mis- 
tress, Mr. Gontrum managed to find time to devote to 
the more congenial pursuits of Literature, Art and 
Science. Going to and from his office or while walking 
through the woods and fields, he would often jot down 
a poem as it came to him under the inspiration of the 
moment. An ardent lover of Art, Mr. Gontrum painted 
several very creditable little paintings and was also an 
expert photographer. Science and Philosophy also came 
within the scope of his broad intellect, and such books 
as The Lectures of Sir William Hamilton, Natural Law 
in the Spiritual World, and Plato's Immortality of the 
Soul occupied a prominent place in his library. 

Mr. Gontrum was never a seeker after social or 
political honors, but preferred the seclusion of home and 



the love and respect of a few friends to the plaudits of 
the multitudes. 

Mr. Gontrum led an unusually pure and virtuous life. 
The soul of honor himself, he could not tolerate any- 
thing that had the appearance of dishonesty. Of an ex- 
ceedingly sensitive temperament, the coarseness of the 
world grated upon him, and his greatest pleasure was 
to steal away to his hills and streams, where he said he 
could commune with nature and with nature's God. He 
loved little children, and little children seemed to be 
instinctively attracted to him. The poor and needy 
found in him a liberal helper; the sick, a comforter, 
and everyone found in him the highest example of the 
lawyer, the scholar, the poet and the Christian. 

In the spring of 1909 Mr. Gontrum was taken ill 
with an affection of the throat. The entire summer 
following was one of great suffering. To one of his 
sensitive temperament this was a gi-eat trial. Autumn 
and early winter found him in much the same condi- 
tion in which he had passed the summer, yet no one 
thought of him as being suddenly taken away. But the 
call did come suddenly, and a merciful Providence 
spared him the grief of witnessing the breaking asunder 
of those domestic ties at a death bed, which meant so 
much to him, and being conscious of the sorrow caused 
by his death to those whom he loved best and whose 
happiness and welfare were the inspiration of his life- 
work. He had just returned from a pleasant ride with 
members of his family, and while walking to the home 
which had been the source of so much happiness to him, 

6 



and which was never again to know the influence of his 
presence, he fell struck with death, and with his head 
pillowed upon the beautiful white snow, reflecting mel- 
low light symbolical of the purity of his life, and while 
the stars kept vigils in the sky, he passed away. 

" It was an ideal dying ; the shallop crossed the bar, 
No pennon at the mast, but was gemmed with evening 

star. 
To the singing tides of Heaven and the light more 

clear than noon, 
Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God 

in tune. 
Brother of the poets, true to nature, true to art. 
Lover of immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart. 
Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, 

if thou depart? 
Silence here — for love is silent, gazing on the lessening 

sail; 
Silence here — for grief is voiceless when the poets 

fail ; 
Silence here — but far beyond us many crying 

^ Hail ! ' '' 



Contents 

PAGE 

Fort McHenry 13 

War And Peace 15 

To Daisy 16 

Poe 17 

To 18 

Until We Meet Again 19 

The Old Bridle Path 20 

Columbia's Call 22 

McKinley, Martyr 23 

Acrostics 19, 24 

On The Corner 25 

When Gorman Touched The Button 36 

A Fragment 38 

Burns And His Highland Mary 39 

Old Glory 40 

Pensivity 41 

To John Milton 42 

The Future Grandmother 43 

On The Tenth Anniversary Of Our Wedding 44 

Epitaphs 22, 43, 44 

To Katherine 45 

POEMS WRITTEN- IN" YOUTH 

The Sailor's Love -. 49 

A Winter Eve 52 

9 



PAGE 

Friendless 54 

Only 57 

Sleighing On The Hill 59 

Indian Summer 62 

Song (Welcome Sweet Season Of Flowers) 64 

The Eeason Why 6Q 

The Swallows 68 

The Autumn's Wind Lament 70 

Music 72 

Death At The Close Of Day 74 

The Alpine Hunter 75 

The Storm King 77 

Midsummer 79 

The Carrier's Greeting 82 

June Eoses 84 

Birds of Spring 85 

After The Battle 87 

The Old Year's Mourners 89 

The Old Arbor 91 

Sunbeam 93 

A June Morning 95 

Ee-Inforced 97 

A June Idyl 100 

The Coming Of Spring 101 

Harvest Time 106 

The Lone Hunter 109 

" Old Maryland " 112 

Down The Chesapeake 114 

Wherefore Sad? 116 

10 



PAGE 

The Mysteries of Infinity 118 

In The Greenwood 120 

The Meadow Lark 122 

'^ Yes " And " No " 124 

Autumn 127 

Forget-me-nots 131 

The " Monumental City " 132 

A Harvest Morn 134 

An Autumn Eve 136 

Moonlight On The Eiver 138 

A Summer Night In The Village 140 

Words of Consolation 143 

An Act Of Kindness 144 

Moonlight On The Snow 147 

The Whippowil 149 



11 



jFort Q^ci^enrg 

Eomanic lyre was never thrilled, 
Nor Homer's harp aspiring rung, 

By deeds heroic nobler than 

Those of our own land yet unsung. 

Then join the anthem of the brave ; 

Sing of Patapsco's shining wave, 

That gave to Freedom's golden age 

The thrice illustrious heritage 

Of gallant Fort McHenry ! 

The gory field of Marathon, 

The shades of dark Thermopylae, 
And all the glorious victories won 
In thy dear cause, Liberty — 
None gave the world a nobler name 
To consecrate to deathless Fame 
Than on that day when o'er the wave 
The f oeman saw the ramparts brave 
Of gallant Fort McHenry ! 

Not Balaklava's desperate charge. 

Nor Austerlitz with carnage red, 
Not Waterloo's disastrous rout. 

Nor Gravelotte with all her dead ; 
Not these alone shall live in story. 
Not these alone shall grow in glory. 
Beloved by all, unknown by few. 
Thy name shall live the ages through, 
0, gallant Fort McHenry ! 

And not alone at Bunker Hill, 

Where fought and bled our patriot sires, 
And Lexington and Vailey Forge, 

Shall Freedom light our beacon fires ; 

13 



But with Long Island^s martyred band, 
Heroic sons of Maryland, 
Thy walls with valorous blood baptized, 
By Fame shall be immortalized, 
0, gallant Fort McHenry ! 

As stood Horatio's noble band 

And held the hosts by Tiber's flood. 

As heroes of the Grecian land 

Eepulsed the Persian with their blood, 

So from the gates of Baltimore, 

And from our new-born Freedom's shore. 

Thy valiant garrison that day 

Turned the invading host away, 
0, gallant Fort McHenry ! 

Stay, sentinel of the watch, I pray; 

Bow low thy head in reverence dear ; 
Tread softly o'er the ramparts gray ; 

For Freedom's brow was star-crowned here ! 
Here Freedom's heavenly hand unfurled 
Her starry symbol to the world ; 
And here we give our vows to thee. 
Resplendent Banner of the Free 

That waves o'er Fort McHenry ! 

When freemen seek for Freedom's shrine 

In this, our land of liberty, 
Then from thy walls her star divine 

Will lead their steps to thee, to thee ! 
Unheeded never be her calls 
While floats her flag above thy walls ! 
And may thy ramparts ever be 
The fortress of the brave and free, 
0, gallant Fort McHenry ! 

1895. 



14 



MJat anD Peace 

A dismal twilight, like a pall descending, 

Upon the distant ranks of marching men, 
A strange, confused and ominous murmur blending 

With martial tread and muffled drum ; and then 
The cruel bayonet its gleam reveals. 

The bugle blares defiance to the foe; 
Out springs the death-flash, while the foeman reels, 

Eeels, sinks and falls to earth^s green sod below ; 
Falls to the earth with white, cold face uplifted. 

More hearts than one by that fell bullet torn ; 
And through the war-clouds, by the cannon rifted. 

Seems that I hear cries of the loved forlorn. 
Back from the foe comes the avenging volley, 

Now from my side my loving comrade falls. 
Who will be next? On, on the horrid folly 

Eages and roars where'er the war-god calls. 

Rages and hisses the carnage around me — 

Father in Heaven, the death-wound I feel ! 
Sundered the ties that forever have bound me. 

Wounded and dying, imploring I kneel. 
Kneeling and praying, alas ! for a token. 

Ever so slight, from those dear ones of mine. 
Comes from the battle receding the broken. 

Echoing battle-cry, " Fall into line ! " 
Fall into line with the dead and the dying, 

Fall into line with the forms that are still ! 
Silence shall come to this voice unreplying — 

Fate of the battle, I bow to thy will ! 

I wake to see God's peaceful sunlight streaming 
Into my casement from the brilliant morn ; 

I wake to see my bright-faced children beaming 
Love^ like the angels when the world was born. 

15 



'No flash of arms save Love's dear arms entwining ; 

No sound of war save memories of my dream; 
No stricken warrior on the sward reclining ; 

But Life and Love — how doubly sweet they seem ! 
If war were but the nightmare of the Nation, 

How soon would Peace assert her gentle power ; 
If war were but a dream of desolation, 

How dear would Peace be at the waking hour ! 
And on my knees, my fervent face upturning, 

I thank the Giver of All Mercies, then. 
That men and nations now are slowly learning 

That 'tis not meet that men should war on men. 



Co Deri0g 

Dear Daisy, my sincerest thanks, 

For that fine work of art. 
Which hangs upon the wall and is 

So dear unto my heart ; 
For such a gift I cannot show 

My full appreciation; 
All I can say is that it was 

A welcome visitation. 
I thank you many, many times, 

For giving so much pleasure. 
And all my life I'll try to guard 

Such an artistic treasure; 
The place of honor it shall hold, 

Upon our humble wall. 
And thus our artist friend will be 

Eemembered by us all. 



16 



poe 

0, startled Singer of the western clime, 
0, wondrous wizard of melodious rhyme, 
We bring to thee, upon thy natal day, 
After the silence and the long delay, 

The tribute thine. 

By right divine. 
The tardy tribute of our love and praise, 
Prince of Singers, for thy deathless lays. 

Erstwhile in their stupidity of creed, 
Erstwhile in their cupidity and greed, 
Of self -laudation and pretentious claim. 
They sought to build their puny hall of fame : 

To thee alone, 

star-crowned one. 
They closed the portals, lest thy glorious light 
Should in its swift effulgence, blind their sight. 

And so, in ancient days, to show their power. 
They strove to build a heaven-touching tower; 
So tall it gleamed o'er plain and distant town ; 
So small it seemed to angels looking down 

From the dim heights 

Of starlit nights; 
High angels looking downward to the earth 
Mingling their pity with celestial mirth. 

And so these same high angels in their flight. 
Through the dim borders of nocturnal light. 
In lyric ecstasy thy notes divining. 
Turned to the earth their seraph faces shining. 

In rapture sweet. 

Thy notes to greet, — 
To listen to the melody upspringing. 
To listen to the marvel of thy singing! 

17 



There came to thee, thy soul with sorrow laden, 
Visions of that dim, but never distant, Aiden, 
Vistas trailing down, through darkness to reveal. 
Visions of the rare, the radiant and the real; 

Immortal blooms 

Amid the glooms 
Served but to make thee most supremely sad, 
sombre singer, with thy singing mad ! 

magic minstrel, whence thy gift to glean 
Supernal music from the world unseen ? 
Who gave to thee from out the night profound 
Transcendent harmonies of sense and sound? 

Whence came, and why. 

From realms on high. 
The weird aurora flitting strangely by. 
The comet flashing in the midnight sky? 

And thus above the envious earth art thou. 
Unfading day upon thy splendid brow ! 
No ghoulish hand can touch thee to defame. 
Or dim the lustre of thy shining name; 

Then sing and sing, 

poet sing, 
Terrestrial lands can thee no longer claim. 
The heavens shall be the temple of thy fame ! 

1909. 



Co 



sweetest memory of our tender years, 
Dear mother, with thy loving gentle face, 

We long to meet again beyond these tears, 
And feel the rapture of thy sweet embrace. 



18 



dntil mt 0@ect again 

Farewell, farewell, -until we meet again ! 

Farewell, farewell, if we should meet no more. 
You go to seek your fortune — yours and mine- 

Which you believe the future has in store. 

Your love for me takes you away from me; 

You would be rich that I may not be poor. 
I should not quarrel with your purpose high; 

But oh, this parting I can scarce endure ! 

May heaven guard you on your troublous way ! 

May heaven bless my lonely lingering here ! 
Forgive my woman's weakness, dear love! 

My pain is great — forgive this parting tear. 

Farewell, farewell, God speed the waiting days. 
When happiness shall ease our bitter pain, 

For your well-being one heart ever prays. 
Farewell, farewell, until we meet again. 



acrostic 

To some one who was six years old 
On her last birthday, I am told. 

But what her name is you may guess 
Ending with rhyme to a sweet caress,- 
So sweet and soft, with sibilants two: 
Surely, Miss Gontrum, it must be you. 



19 



ciie mn i3tmt patb 

Where the sunshine of the meadows 

Skirts the forest's leafy edge. 
And the sunlight with the shadows 

Frolics on the rocky ledge, 
Where the moss-girt water surges 

Eound about the limpid pool, 
There the bridle path emerges 

From the woodland dim and cool. 

Fondest of the memories golden 
Treasured from the days of yore, 
Sweetest of the memories olden 

Oft recurring o'er and o'er, 
Is the loving recollection 

Of the path beside the pool. 
Winding with sweet indirection 

From the woodland dim and cool. 

One by one the cattle wandered 

Down the path into the wood, 
While I lingered long and pondered 

In delicious solitude: 
Dreaming, dreaming, idly dreaming. 

Of the future yet to be. 
With the forest shadows seeming 

Full of mystery to me. 

Oft with furtive steps I ventured 

Down the path until I came 
To the poplar tree indentured 

With the letters of my name; 
And sometimes, strange sounds discerning 

From the duskier depths of green, 
Quickly found myself returning 

To the friendly sunlight's sheen. 

20 



Every day I wandered aeeper 

Down the dear old path of yore, . 
Till I found myself the keeper 

Of the forest's mystic lore. 
Sometimes, too, I fancied, roaming, 

That an Indian warrior bold 
Might be lurking in the gloaming 

Of the woodland's deepest fold. 

But the days of youth have vanished. 

Gone my childish hopes and fears. 
And the boyish fancies banished 

By the sober after years; 
But no fonder memories cluster 

Eound my retrospective moods 
Than the old stream's dappled luster, 

And the old path through the woods. 

Still I find the waters plashing 

By the meadow's shining verge; 
Still I find the sunlight flashing 

Where the lights and shadows merge; 
And again I tread the winding, 

Sweet, seductive path of old, 
But the name no longer finding 

On the poplar gray with mould. 

Little dreamed I that the pathway 

Of my childhood's days agone 
Was the symbol of life's pathway 

When the child was older grown. 
Still the stream of memory surges 

To the place where oft I stood, 
Where the bridle path emerges 

From the shadows of the wood. 

1895. 



21 



Colum6ia'0 Gall 

Comrades all, comrades all, 
Hear, hear onr Country's call! 
Soon the bugles will be ringing, 
Soon will loving arms be clinging — 
Hear, hear Columbia's call ! 

Say farewell, say farewell — 
To your loved ones say farewell ! 
Though affection's tears be flowing, 
From our dear ones we are going. 
To obey Columbia's call ! 

Even life, even life, 
Shall be offered in the strife ! 
Where the nation's hosts are forming. 
In the battle's fiercest storming. 
We'll obey Columbia's call ! 

Comrades, hear, comrades, hear — 
Comrades, hear that voice so dear ! 
'Tis our mother calling, calling 
While her hero sons are falling — 
Comrades, hear Columbia's call ! 



OEpitapi) SDn 



Dear, noble, generous heart, now free from pain, 

Life's weary labors o'er; 
How sweet the thought that we shall meet again, 
Where heavenly choirs do swell the glad refrain 

Upon the other shore. 



22 



In reverence and sorrow too profound 
For paltry human words, we come to bring 
The tribute of our love and veneration 
Unto the memory of him whose face, 
Ennobled with high purpose and good-will, 
Turned always tenderly and lovingly 
Toward the Southland. And so we bring 
Tears unrestrained and love and sympathy 
Unutterable. The Nation weeps with thee, 
Dear widowed consort of our fallen chief! 
Nor time, nor progress can efface the deep 
And hideous scar of this most shameful crime. 
Fall, gentle tears, upon Columbia's wound ; 
Hide from our eyes, mist of falling tears, 
The anguish of her sad, reproachful gaze ! 

To him who stood above the partisan 
And sought to strengthen all the shining bonds 
Of peace and joy, forbearance and good-will 
Between the clans of brothers North and South, 
Erstwhile opposing with their dearest blood ; 
To him who fought superbly in the ranks 
When duty called each hero from his home ; 
To him who, in the shadow of the vale, 
Stricken, but conscious of impending doom, 
Showed sweet solicitude for her he loved ; 
To him, the soldier statesman, who remained 
Majestic, strong, unselfish to the last; 
To him who, with sublimest faith, resigned 
Himself unto the Will Inscrutable; 
To him, the husband, hero, martyr, friend, 
We bring the tribute of our tenderest tears ! 



i'or him the day of life has passed ; for him 

The night has come, and through the darkness now 

We see the star of all his virtues shining 

Serenely splendid in the deepening gloom. 

And lo ! beyond that star the holier light 

Of an immortal soul, whose radiance falls 

Upon the ISTation^s heart. Come closer now 

Ye patriots ! Clasp hands, brothers all ! 

The link is forged within the crucible 

Of sacrifice and death ! The chain of peace 

Forevermore shall thus remain unbroken 

And bind all hearts that beat by Northern fires, 

Or glow in Southern homes, with links of love. 

Good-by, good-by, great heart ! " It is God^s way. 

His will be done, not ours.^^ * The crown is won. 



acrostic 

So sweet and fair and young is she! 
To love her and her beau to be, 
Enslaved by all her beauteous charms. 
Long clasped in her dear clinging arms- 
Let others wish whatever they may — 
Ah ! that's the wish I wish to-day. 



* The last words of President McKinley. 
24 



ffl)n Clje Cornet 

A SONG OF THE SIDEWALK 

Lulled at last the clattering chorus in the tired evening 
air, 

As I stood iipon the corner of the city's thoroughfare. 

Alternating lights electric in perspective gleamed afar; 

And the clanging gong apprised me of the nearing home- 
ward car. 

Welcome sound and welcome evening, after weary labors 
o'er, 

Thinking of the happy faces that would greet me at my 
door! 

Bright anticipations held me in their contemplative 

thrall ; 
And I stood the while unmindful of a plaintive childish 

call; 
Buttoned up my coat about me, for the evening air was 

damp; 
And surveyed the colored radiance of the street car^s 

moving lamp ; 
When a touch upon my garments and a muffled kind of 

sigh 
At the moment drew attention, while the street car passed 

me by. 

Turned I quickly, half in anger, all impatient at the way 
That a small and tattered newsboy was productive of 

delay. 
" Paper, mister, — evening paper ? '' " No, you little 

rascal, no ! '' 
^'Won^t you take one, mister, won't you? Won't you 

take one 'fore you go ? " 



" You have made me miss the car ! '' I muttered sav- 
agely to him 
As he stood in mute apology upon the curbstone's rim. 



Still insisting, then I answered most emphatically 

"No''; 
When I saw the little fellow turn dejectedly to go, 
With a look of disappointment that I never shall forget. 
And I thought his cheeks were paler and his eyes with 

tear-drops wet, 
In his voice a childish faltering that to me seemed ill 

repressed, 
As a hurrying pedestrian he eagerly addressed : 

"Evening paper — evening paper!" But the stranger 
passed him by; 

Then another, and another was saluted with the cry. 

Not a soul in all that hurrying throng, at evening home- 
ward bound, 

Seemed to give the least attention to the anxious boyish 
sound. 

Such persistency is worthy, then I inwardly commented ; 

In the interval of waiting, I remorsefully relented. 

So I called the little fellow. " Here, my son,'' I kindly 

said; 
And my heart leaped high with pleasure at the start the 

lad then made. 
'*" Evening paper ! Here you are, sir ! " In a twinkling, 

at my side, 
With a queer sort of gyration and a " double shuffle " 

glide. 
Stood the urchin, all alertness, and with wary eye cast 

round 
To discern if any rival was upon his " lucky ground." 



JSTot a rough, uncouth, ungracious braggadocio was he, 

But a child with anxious features, wan and thin as they 
could be. 

Reaching down into my pocket for the penny now re- 
quired. 

Failed I, though, to find the coin now so eagerly desired; 

When a quick-toned exclamation from the pale lips of 
the child 

Caused me to look closely at him and perceive his actions 
wild. 

" Oh ! please hurry, mister, hurry ! " " What's the 
matter, boy ? " said I, 

Comprehending not his trembling nor the terror in his 
eye. 

" Oh, my ! hurry, mister, hurry ! There comes double- 
fisted Jim ! 

He will beat me, for he says that all this corner b'longs 
to him. 

Oh ! he sees me, and he'll beat me ! Oh, my ! now what 
shall I do ! 

Mister" — crying — "mister, mister, may I walk along 
with you ? " 

" Never mind, he shall not hurt you," said I, noticing 

the wild 
And apprehensive look upon the pale face of the child. 
Reassuringly I spoke, and placed his little hand in 

mine — 
Little slender hand it was, and streaked with many an 

inky line. 
He was but a wee bit larger than my darling boy at 

home. 
"What a tender waif," I muttered, "homeless in the 

street to roam ! " 

3 27 



Homeless — was he ? 1^11 discover. " How old may you 

be, my lad ? " 
" Seven years, sir, last September." " And where do 

you live ? " I said. 
"Home with mother and with Kitty — she's my sister, 

four years old. 
She can't work, and I'm a-helping, so we've money when 

it's cold. 
Mother sews, and I sell papers, mother says to ' make 

ends meet,' 
And to buy a pair of winter shoes for Kitty's little feet. 

" Think he's gone now — Jim, I mean, sir ! Thank you 

very, very much. 
Boys as big and strong as he is, he would never dare to 

touch. 
No, sir, I'm not afraid much now, sir, for I'll cut across 

to home." 
" But your papers — you've not sold them." " No, not 

all, sir, only some; 
And it's getting late, you see, sir; mother's looking for 

me home. 
She and sister Kitty's waiting. She'll be anxious till I 



We had reached a quieter comer, and a look of deep dis- 
tress 

Flitted o'er his youthful features ; for his sales, no doubt, 
were less 

Than the money of his venture for the evening; and I 
said, — 

" You have lost to-day, my boy, and not a cent of profit 
made." 

Faltering lips and rushing tear-drops then evinced the 
certain token 

Of his childish disappointment, and his child-heart 
nearly broken. 

28 



" I — I made a quarter yesterday, but I have lost to-day ; 

And I'd try again, but mother worries so when Tm 
away." 

"Never mind, my little man," I said; "come, walk 
along with me; 

It is only a few more squares or so ; and then — well, then 
we'll see. 

You are not afraid to go with me and get a suit of 
clothes — 

One of those which my own Willie in a season soon out- 
grows ? " 

" No, sir, not afraid of you, sir; you're so kind, sir. Oh, 

I'll go; 

Thank you for the suit, and hurry home; and she will 

hardly know 
Her own Willie, — my name's Willie, too, sir, like your 

little boy. 
Oh, I know that when she sees me she will be so full of 

joy- 
But she's mostly always sad, sir; and she sometimes — 

often — cries. 
Kitty is too young to notice, but / see it in her eyes." 

" And your papa ? " " You mean father ; mother says 

to call him so ; 
And when sister speaks of ^ papa,' mother cries, and says, 

' No, no, — 
Don't say that again, my darling'; and I reckon it is 

queer ; 
For he don't seem like our papa, and he never does 

come near. 
Father's business ? I don't know, sir ; but the boys down 

at the mission. 
When they see him pass the corner, say, * There goes a 

politician.' 



" Oh, he dresses awful fine, sir, and he wears a high silk 

hat 
And a heavy, golden watch-chain and a diamond and all 

that. 
He must have big lots of money; but it seems so very 

strange 
That he never comes and gives to our poor mother any 

change. 
He don't seem to know who I am; if I ask the reason 

why, 
Mother only turns her head away with tear-drops in her 

eye." 

Soon we reached the pleasant precincts of my cozy little 

home. 
All the loved ones vastly wondering why I had not 

sooner come. 
Explanations quickly followed, and a welcome for the 

boy. 
Not a few tears came unbidden, but they soon were 

changed to joy 
At the rapture of my protege dressed in my boy's 

attire ; 
When upon our startled ears there came the dread alarm 

of fire! 

" I thank you very much, sir, and I'll hurry quickly 

home; 
For mother and Kitty, if there's a fire, will surely be 

frightened some," 
Said the boy, as apprehensively he turned and moved 

to go. 
While sounds of gong and rushing steps came from the 

street below. 
Whate'er it was, I ne'er shall know, that prompted me to 

take 
The boy's slim hand and follow in the engine's glittering 

wake, — 

30 



But sure enough, I found myself upon the noisy street 
Hurriedly guiding through the crowd my comrade's 

pattering feet. 
A dozen squares or more we ran; and passed a gilded 

den 
Where tinkling glasses echoed to the voices of the 

men, 
Whose homes, perhaps, were cheerless, but who passed 

the evening hours 
Where glittering temptation heart and soul alike 

devours. 

" Only a fire,'' said some one, as he passed into the 

door. 
" Only a fire," a wkDman said, " a fire among the 

poor," 
As she lightly followed her escort, out of the handsome 

coupe. 
To the door of the " Ladies' Entrance," to the foot of 

the grand stairway. 
And I saw, as we quickly passed them, that her escort 

wore a frown, 
Nor seemed he pleased at the flippant words of this syren 

of the town. 

Then onward with the surging tide of mixed humanity, 
Till we could see the hissing flames dart to the lurid 

sky, 
With the intervening chimneys, darkly looming here and 

there. 
Like an army ranged in battle with the smoke clouds in 

the air; 
Then around the crowded corner, and up the narrow 

street. 
Where the throngs from out the tenements impede our 

eager feet. 

31 



When lo ! my little comrade gave one anguished cry of 

fear: 
" Oh, my God ! " he cried, " it's mother's house, they are 

at the window there ! " 
And I saw a pale-faced mother and a little fair-haired 

girl 
In the building's topmost window, in the conflagration's 

whirl ; 
And, above the pandemonium, I heard their wild appeal 
To the God above to save them from the fire's dread 

ordeal ! 

Eound about them and above them lapped the fire-fiend's 

demon tongue; 
And about the window's casement sable smoke waves 

writhed and clung. 
Sudden stillness seized the multitude, a stillness as of 

death, 
Save the ominous sound of crumbling walls and the 

surge of the fire-king's breath ; 
When lo ! the smoke pall, parting, discloses kneeling 

there 
Mother and child, in silence, too, the attitude of prayer I 

Only a second of silence; then, at the quick word of 

command. 
Up slides the rescuing ladder. Oh, God ! that the walls 

may stand ! 
Then suddenly my little comrade slipped from my 

nerveless clasp 
And swooned at the foot of the ladder that he vainly 

tried to grasp. 
Strong arms tenderly lifted him up, and gave him, at 

my request. 
Into my arms, where I held him, like my own little boy, 

to my breast. 

32 



And the firemen brave rushed forward, eager to scale 
the wall, 

Eeckless of death and danger, to respond to duty's 
call; 

When suddenly, out from the crowd, a tall form came 
with a bound. 

And seized, with a stern desperation, the ladder^s tremb- 
ling round; 

And up, without hesitation, firmly and quickly he 
goes. 

While the fire, with angry resentment, at the rash in- 
truder glows. 

And I saw, in the smoke and the turmoil, that he wore 

a high silk hat, 
And a glittering pin on his bosom ; 'twas the " diamond 

and all that ; " 
When upon my mental vision, like a flash, there came 

the truth — 
That the stranger on the ladder was the father of the 

youth ; 
That it was the selfsame stranger I had seen upon the 

stair 
As the escort of the syren at the " Tiger's " gilded lair ! 

Now another stair ascending, not to ruin, but to save — 
Save his own, his wife and baby, from the fire's molten 

grave. 
How the ladder sways and totters ! How the red flames 

writhe and play 
All about him to deprive him of their sacrifice, their 

prey ! 
In a moment how the fire-fiend will exult and hiss and 

roar ! 
In a moment and this tragedy, like others, will be 

o'er! 

33 



And the vast assemblage, silent, gazes spellbound on the 

man 
Till they see him reach, through fire and smoke, the 

ladder's topmost span; 
Till they see him seize the window's ledge and lightly 

leap within; 
Only a moment he disappears, and then is seen again; 
Again the rifted clouds of smoke disclose his swaying 

form 
Descending with his wife and child clasped in his giant 

arm! 

Slowly down the rocking frame, that bends beneath the 
weight — 

Slowly, with the swooning forms snatched from the aw- 
ful fate; 

When suddenly the multitude, released from anxious 
fear. 

Sends upward, in their gratitude, a wild uproarious 
cheer. 

Too soon, alas! — the ladder slides aslant the crumbling 
walls ; 

And pressing close his burden fair, the rescuer reels and 
falls! 

" Dead, stone dead ! '' the firemen say ; " he fell under- 
neath, you see." 

The other two, the mother and child, were from all in- 
jury free. 

Ah ! terrible fate that, unscathed from the fire, upon the 
stony street, 

After the long separation, the dead and the living meet. 

Meet with her love's recognition, but without his word 
or breath; 

Meet at the gateway of parting, — meet at the doors of 
death! 

34 



Kind hands have tenderly borne them away from the 

terrible spot; 
Kind hands have nourished the orphan and bettered the 

widow's lot; 
The boy has grown to be prosperous; and Kitty is 

sheltered and warm ; 
But never will be forgotten the night of that dread 

alarm ! 
And oft, when the twilight gathers softly o'er land and 

wave, 
May be seen a widowed mother kneeling at a father's 

grave. 

No need to ask if she has forgiven the cold and cruel 
neglect; 

No need to ask if a woman's heart e'er waits for the 
mind to reflect ! 

We surely know that to her all the sins that tarnished 
his once fair name 

Were fully atoned — aye, more than atoned — in the dread 
baptism of flame. 

His life's sacrifice for his wife and his babe has ex- 
piated all; 

And with faith complete that they soon will meet, she 
waits for the Master's call ! 

Yet I wonder if this man so false and this woman so 

true will meet 
In the years to come, in eternity, in the walks of the 

golden street; 
And I wonder if a single life, given instead of the love 
So long withheld, will fully aix)ne in the eyes of the God 

above. 
But whether or not, in the great beyond, these things 

will surely be well, ' 
God, in his Infinite Justice and Mercy, alone can tell. 

35 



" mUn &otmm CoucfteD tfte TButton '' 

From Garrett to Wicomico, way down the Eastern Shore, 
For Governor of Maryland there were candidates galore. 
They trotted out this one and that, and then they took 

him hack, 
But they kept the " dark horse " standing in the stable 

near the rack. 
And who it was no one could know, the wisest could 

not tell, 
Till Gorman touched the button at the Carrollton Hotel. 

The " lieutenants " of the party held their powwows as 

of old; 
But they couldn't "get together" till they saw their 

leader bold. 
They talked about the " party " and the " reassessment 

bill/' 
And claimed that the convention would consult the 

people's will. 
All the " regulars " were puzzled, but they knew 'twould 

all be well 
When Gorman touched the button at the Carrollton 

Hotel. 

So they called the big convention, with their '' counsel " 

in the chair. 
And the yells of hired applauders floated on the ambient 

air; 
But the chairman tapped his gavel and told them to be 

still, 
While the orator stepped forward to announce the 

''peoples" will. 
Then on the eager audience a breathless silence fell, 
While Gorman touched the button at the Carrollton 

Hotel. 

36 



The spokesman of the party then began his big oration, 

Complimenting all the people on the coming nomina- 
tion, 

And announced the name selected by the leader wise and 
bold, 

As the banner of the candidate was from the stage un- 
rolled ; 

But a storm of howls and hisses, like a blanket, o'er it 
fell, 

When Gorman pressed the button at the Carrollton 
Hotel. 



'^Gorman's man!'' the people shouted; ''Gorman — 

GORMAN'S MAN!"— they roared, 
And a wild denunciation from indignant people poured. 
No chairman and no orator could stop the mighty 

roar, 
And the hired applauders trembled in silence sick and 

sore. 
Even Easin blanched a little at the storm that rose and 

fell 
When Gorman touched the button at the Carrollton 

Hotel. 



But the "leader" sat serenely in the darkness of his 

room 
And smiled a supercilious smile and started up the 

boom. 
They told him of the fearful storm that o'er their heads 

had burst 
When the speaker told the people that their candidate 

was " Hurst : " 
But he smiled in a way that seemed to say, " Let the 

people go to — well ; " ' 
For he had touched the button at the Carrollton Hotel. 

37 



But the people, ah, the people — will they bear the sad 
disgrace ? 

Will they meekly stand the insult that was flung into 
their face? 

" No ! ^^ the voice of Honor thunders over dear old 
Maryland, 

" We'll not give up the old State yet to Gorman and his 
band ! '' 

And the Boss who touched the button will not smile in 
that sweet way, 

When the PEOPLE vote their ballots on the next elec- 
tion day! 



a jFtagment 

♦Deep is the forest, and vast and long is the way to the 
wigwam, 

Dark is the path, where it winds through the mazes of 
swamp and of woodland. 

Bold was the warrior's heart, and stealthy and swift 
were his footsteps. 

Gliding along in the dusk, and the gloom of the twi- 
light approaching. 

Far overhead in the sky, through the boughs of the 
trees interlacing, 

Here and there glimmered a star, as if modestly cheer- 
ing him onward. 



* A poem begun in which Mr. Gontrum intended to relate 
the early life and customs of the North American Indian. 

38 



15mm 9nD J^f0 ^istilanD Q^arg 

Fair ladv, that I come to you 

A stranger bard, fu^ wiel I ken, 
For ye've known naught of me, save through 

The lays Tve poured through Scotia's glen : 
But when I speak o' gliding Ayr, 

0' hawthorn shades and fragrant ferns, 
0' Doon, and Highland Mary fair, 

Mayhap ye'll think o' Robert Burns. 

I am the lad — and why I'm here 

I heard the gudedame when she said 
She'd know in joyous spirit sphere 

If Burns was wi' his Mary wed. 
I sought to tell her o' our joy — 

Na muckle impress could I make — 
And, lady, I have flown to see 

If ye'd my message to her take. 

Tell her that when I passed from earth 

My angel lassie, crowned wi' flowers, 
Met me wi' glowing love-lit torch. 

And led me to the nuptial bowers : 
That all we'd dreamed o' wedded bliss. 

And more, was meted to us there — 
And sweeter was my dearie's kiss 

Than on the flowing banks o' Ayr. 

Where Love's celestial fountains played, 

And rose-buds burst, and Seraphs sang, 
And myrtle twin'd our couch to shade, 

I clasped the love I'd mourned sa lang : 
And while by angel harps was played 

The bonnie '* bridal serenade," 
Though nae gown'd pri-est the kirk-rite said, 

Burns was wi' his Mary wed ! 

39 



There's na destroying death-frost here 
To nip the hope-buds ere they bloom — 

The " bridal tour " is through the sphere — 
Eternity the " honey moon." 



©ID (©lot? 

All hail, Old Glory in the skies, 

Dear emblem of the free; 
Thou hast been our guerdon of glory, 
Our idol of song and of story; 

Old Glory, hail to thee ! 

Now let the haughty foeman come 

Across the deep blue sea; 
The storm of the battle may rend thee, 
But with our lives we will defend thee; 

Old Glory, hail to thee ! 

The suffering and oppressed will turn 

Their longing eyes to thee ; 
Thou wilt bring to them in their sadness 
A message of hope and of gladness; 

Old Glory, hail to thee ! 

Our conquering race will dare and die 

For sweet humanity; 
And tyrants all will cringe and cower 
Before the might of Freedom's power; 

Old Glory, hail to thee ! 

Far-flung thy flaming stars and bars 

Are beckoning to the free; 
And we'll follow where thy loving folds are twining, 
We'll follow where thy stars divine are shining; 

Old Glory, hail to thee ! 

40 



" ptmmtv " 

As I remarked before, (?) 
Behind the hen-house door, 

I sit alone; 
The twinkling stars on high 
Are appearing in the sky, 

One by one. 

In a solitary mood, 

In the shadow of the wood, 

I'm a-thinking, — 
Thinking of you, Mollie dear. 
If you only would be here, 

At me winking. 

Oh ! how happy I would be, 
Thy form divine to see 

With my eyes ; 
And thy glorious brow, more bright 
Than the moon's refulgent light 

In the skies. 

With thy wealth of golden hair 
Flowing down thy shoulders fair, 

In a ring ; 
So that thou dost seem to me 
Like a waving willow tree 

In the spring. 

But the glory of the moon, 
Fadeth quickly — Oh ! how soon, 

In the west; 
And the rooster's joyous call 
Wakes the sleepers,, one and all, 

From their rest. 



41 



While the glowing cheek of morn, 
Heralded by hunter's horn, 

Is afire; 
And with weary step and slow, 
Under disappointment's blow 

I retire. 



Co 3fo!)n ^Uton 

On thee alone, of all the mighty bards. 

Whose lays have earned for Albion's sea-swept isle 

Her splendor and her majesty in song, 

The greatest glory and the proudest wreath 

Of immortality, the Muse bestows ! 

Alone and unafraid, into the depths 

Of dread and darkness thou hast dared descend, 

And call from out the deeps the prince of hell ; 

Alone and undismayed, into the heights 

Of dazzling luster, to the very throne 

Of the Most High, hast thou, with reverend mien. 

Walked in the shining footsteps of the angels! 

To thee alone, of all the mortals here, 

Was this high privilege and permission given, 

To pass through all Inferno into Heaven, 

And then, in words undying, to recount 

" Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme." 



Cfte jFuture ©ranDmotftet 

Dear little fingers so busy at play, 
They will be grandmother^s fingers some day; 
Now they're so fondly her dolly caressing; 
After awhile they'll be giving a blessing. 

Dear little curls on the forehead so fair, 
Forehead so free from the wrinkles of care, 
After the passing of many a day. 
They will be shining with silvery gray. 

Dear little eyes now so roguish and blue, 
They will have glasses on, just to see through; 
Dear little head in its grandmother's lap. 
After awhile will wear gradmother's cap. 

Swiftly, ah, swiftly, the years will go by ; 
Sunshine and sadness around them will lie. 
Only as yesterday will seem the day 
When you were happy around me in play. 

Now 'tis the burden of grandmother's prayer 
That the Dear Father may shield you from care; 
Guard you and bless you and bring you to me 
After awhile, in the years yet to be ! 



(Epitapj) mn 3foj)n §)♦ OSiDDision 

strong in the stern conviction of the right, 
Courageous in his faith, he knew no fear. 

To him the way of life was ever bright ; 
To him the Word of Life was ever dear. 



43 



SDn Cfte Ccntti annitier0arg 2Df 2Dut 

Dear Mary, since our wedding mom, 

Ten years have passed away, 
And you're just as sweet and pretty 

As you were that happy day. 
The fleeting years have missed you, 

But we've had our joy and care; 
And Time has lightly kissed you, 

And left you young and fair. 
It seems to me but yesterday. 

Since that eventful time, 
But I know it must be longer, 

While I write this loving rhyme. 
For our little daughter Bessie 

Is over eight years old, 
And there's Johnnie and there's Edwin 

And the youngest of the fold. 
So we'll celebrate our wedding 

In a quiet and happy way, 
And wish for many bright returns 

Of this, our wedding day. 



CpitapJ) SDn J^i0 ®i0ter, (Emma (B* 
(Sontrum 

A loved one laid to rest! 
So fondly, fondly loved, so young, so fair. 
sweet immortal hope eternal fair; 
That in the mystic future we shall meet, 
Our darling in ecstacy shall meet. 
Our loved one waked from rest. 



44 



Co Biatftetfne 

When sleep with silent fingers 

Has closed my tear-dimmed eyes, 
And in the sours deep chambers 

Dreams of the night arise; 
Then out of the solemn stillness, 

And out of the vast unknown, 
A gentle presence comes to me, 

And I know I am not alone. 
With feet unshod for the silence, 

And with eyes love-lit for the gloom, 
The sweetest angel from all the skies 

Comes softly into my room; 
Softly with sweet hesitation 

My messenger from the divine 
Comes to my bedside and places 

Her dear little hands upon mine. 



And out of the depths of my slumber 

My spirit awakes disenthralled, 
To commune with an angel from heaven 

By me to the earth recalled; 
And I see with the soul's clear vision 

The face unto mine upturned, 
The face of my cherub who never 

Her loves of the earth unlearned. 
The lustre trails downward from heaven 

Through portals from whence she came. 
And I hear the melodious music 

Of a voice that is calling my name; 
And I see the dear arms outreaching 

To be clasped in the old embrace. 
And I feel the joy ecstatic 

Of the touch of her angel face. 

45 



Enraptured with joy supernal 

I look on the face benign, 
Beaming with love eternal, 

Transfigured with glor}^ divine. 
*And my thoughts are raised from the mortal; 

And my soul is bathed in the light 
That streams through the open portals, 

Blinding and dazzling my sight. 
It cleanses my spellbound spirit, 

Until it's as pure as prayer. 
And I look afar in eternity 

And see what awaits me there. 
Then I speak to the angel near me, 

And I say, " Lead on ! lead on ! " 
But sadly she murmurs her answer, 

" ]!^ot yet ! '^ and lo ! is gone ! 

The vision fadeth from me, 

But down in the depths of my heart 
Its glory will grow forever. 

And its beauty can never depart. 
And the false from my breast has been banished, 

And the gloom from my soul has fled; 
While a calm has come over my spirit, 

As sweet as the sleep of the dead. 
And as twilight, with lingering blushes. 

On the threshold of darkness delays, 
So my soul awaits the shadows 

That will fall at the close of my days. 
For I hope in the future to follow, 

By the touch of her angel hand. 
Through those portals illumined in glory. 

To the Throne of the Promised Land. 

♦ Mr. Gontrum left this poem unfinished, and from the 
asterisk is contributed by his son, T. M. Gontrum. 

46 



POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH 



Cfte §)ailor'0 Lotie 

At morn, at noontide bright, and even 
At night, I stray down by the sea. 

Vainly waiting, watching, wishing. 
For the sail that appeareth not to me ; 

For the sail in which he sailed away 

Over the seas, at the break of day, 
Three weary years agone ! 



At morn — when the roseate heralds bright, 

Borne on by the pnrple wings of dawn. 
Proclaim, with ethereal wands of light. 

The orient glories riding on ; 
When the hill-side pines that intervene 
Are tipped by Aurora's beauteous sheen. 

And sway with rapt delight ; 
When the wild gray mists on the rock-bound shore 

Eise up from their slumber upon the sea — 
The steel-blue sea and the silver sands, 

While the morning breezes frisk with glee. 
But naught I see of a stately sail 
Borne athwart the waves by the wand'ring gale; 
But naught I hear but my own deep sigh. 
The blustering breezes' mock reply, 

And the sonoj of the steel-blue sea! 



At noon — when the sun rides high above 
And sheds its light on the pulsing waves. 

Tipping with silver the surges' crests. 
While the waters lave the roclr^ caves ; 

When the pines are still on the sunlit hills. 

And naught thro' the sunny silence thrills, 
But the softened song of the sea. 



49 



Yet naught I see of a shining sail, 
Nor hear a voice give gladsome hail. 
Backward I wend my weary way, 
While a mystical something bids me stay 
In the song of the glistening sea ! 



At eve — when the sunset wildly burns 

Its funereal pyre on the glowing west; 
And the red life-blood of the dying day 

Drips slowly — suffusing the ocean's breast; 
When the pines on the hill look dark and wild 
" Keeping their watch 'neath the evening star ; 
And a mystical murmur thrills thro' the deep, 

Echoed by rocky caves afar. 
But naught save a purple-robed maid — 
Fair Twilight — appears 'twixt the light and shade 

On the far horizon's verge; 
While up from the deep — the dark blue deep — 
Like the song of the pines, the sad notes sweep 
Of the song of the solemn sea ! 



At night — when the stars have lit their fires, 
And the full-orbed moon rides high above ; 
When the waves are bright with a lustrous light, 
And the whisp'ring pines, in their solemn grove, 

Sway sadly to and fro, 
I stand on the cliff above the deep. 
Watching the waves beneath the steep; 
But never — oh ! never — doth upward loom 
A gleaming sail amid the gloom ; 
And naught I hear, as I list'ning stand. 
But the wild waves' music, sad and grand — 

The death-sad song of the sea ! 

60 



I know that I never shall behold 

His loved form near my humble home, — 
Then why is it that along the shore 

I love — so dearly love — to roam ? 
And why is it that I love the hnes 

Of the sea at morn, at eventide? 
And why is it that I, lingering, gaze 

For hours upon the deep ^vild, wide ? 
And why is it that I love the gleam 
Of the silver sands on the shore ? and deem 
Of sweetest melodies, supreme 

The song of the restless sea ? 

1873. 



51 



Winter Pictures 



A WINTER EVE 

In snowy robes the hills reposing lie ; 

The dark-brown forests rear their crests between; 
The strange, wild glory of the western skies 

Casts o'er the pure, white earth its crimson sheen. 

The day-king^s blood-dyed face above the tall, 
Dark treetops of the west bnt faintly shows; 

Soon fades the crimson disc from sight, and faint, 
And fainter now, the purple evelight grows. 

A lingering light upon the western sky — 
Pale remnant of the dying winter's day — 

E'en like departing spirits, gazes down 
Upon the dreary earth and treetops gray. 

'Tis waning now, and 'mid the azure slcy. 
Gleams radiantly the silver star of eve — 

With boding mien from out the forest step 
The shadows, and their gloomy meshes weave. 

An ^olian cadence, sweet, yet wild and low, 
Amid the blending forest shades is heard; 

It rides upon the evening breeze and wakes 
Soft echoes 'mid the woodland aisles that gird 

The crystal, snowy hills that gently slope 
To where, amid the vale, the farmer's cot, 

Snow-crowned, half-hid, doth nestle deep, and where 
Lives the Son of Toil contented with his lot. 

The humble chimney, crested with pure snow, 
That rises o'er the loaded, lowly eaves. 

Glows with the blending eve-lights, as the sward 
When filters summer sunset thro' the leaves. 

52 



The last blue, spiral wreath of smoke ascends 

Toward the soft blue sky, and, tinged with gold, 

Blends sweetly with the azure arch of heaven 
That soon the evanescent gleaming folds. 

The silver, crescent moon grows brighter now, 
As darker grows each shadow, and the sky ; 

Now flash amid the gloom the cottage lights, 
Less brilliant gleam the gems of night on high. 

Amid the starry splendor moans the wind : 

And mad and all resistless is its flight. 
The snowy landscape gleams, the forests bow, — 

The winter eve has darkened into night. 

Yet all unmindful of the winter wind, 
And all unmindful of the drifting snow, 

The farmer rests in peace, nor knows nor cares 
How fierce 'round crowned heads the stormwinds blow ! 

1873. 



53 



Beneatli a spreading oak-tree's shade 

An aged wanderer reclined, 
With white face bowed in deep despair 

That told of agony of mind. 
The flush of the royal summer sun, 

Diffused by the west-sky's bloody pyre, 
Brightened the halo of silver locks 

And tinged his brow with ruddy fire. 

The mountains in his wake rise blue, 

The white cliffs piercing the summer's sky; 
While faintly shows the crescent moon 

Amid the blue serene on high. 
O'er all the hush of evening reigns 

The peaceful hush of the summer eve; 
While even now from chalice bright 

The flowers the crystal dew receive. 

Oh ! that e'en ^mid this glorious scene 

Unhappiness should hold its sway; 
Its victim the aged mourner there, 

Whose locks grew prematurely gray 
Beneath the keen and withering breath 

Of disappointment's blast that flies 
To wreck the brighest castle built 

By fond ambition in the skies ! 

*' No friend ! Ko friend ! " The wanderer cries, 

'• Alone — all alone in the heartless world ; 
My fondest hopes long since o'erthrown, 

Aud ruthlessly ^mid sorrow hurled. 
The only hearts that beat for me. 

The only lips that kissed my own. 
Are silent in the hard, cold earth, 

And I am left — Oh ! God — alone ! 

54 



'^ The dear old home, where, in my youth, 

A guileless, happy boy I played 
Beside the joyous brook that leapt 

Over the pebbly dam I made, 
But echoes to the stranger's voice ! 

The sweet, sweet hopes I cherished then 
Did e'en dissolve like the pebbly bank 

Wlien my life in care's rude channel ran ! 

" Alone I've wandered ever on — 

No smile of love to greet my sight 
And, for a while, dispel the gloom 

Of the thorny path devoid of light; 
No friend to cheer my weary way — 

To speak a kindly, loving word — 
To warn me with reproachful look 

Whene'er my sinning heart had erred ! 

" And is there then no friend — not one ? 

False hearts that stayed while pleasures smiled 
Allured me from a Friend too true, 

And, for a while, my love beguiled ! 
But Thou, Lord, did'st warning send — 

Thou wast my Friend in that dark hour — 
I hearkened to the ' still, small voice ' — 

To Thee ! — forsook sin's tempting bower. 

" And yet I feel Thou art my Friend : 

Why should I weep o'er torturing care? 
Excruciating pain is life 

Compared with bliss unending there ! 
God, forgive for errors past; 

Thou, in Thy friendship, strengthen me: 
Trembling I sue e'en now to come 

Forever to abide with Thee ! " 



55 



He ceased : the red sun dropped from sight, 

The evening star shone bright above; 
And ere the sun looked forth again 

His spirit was safe in his Father's love. 
He had humbly pleaded a Christian's cause, 

And bravely stood 'mid the whirling blast, 
Through sinful error safely lived 

And had found in heaven a Friend at last ! 

When ambient sins are tempting thee, 

pilgrim, list obediently 
Unto the voice of conscience, for 

'Tis God, thy Friend, that counsels thee. 
By trials stern, by care and strife, 

The King of earth and heaven above^ — 
The Lord, who loves contrition sweet — 

Would prove thy Friendship, Faith and Love ! 



56 



©nig 

Only a flash like liglitning-, 

Only another form, 
Lying beneath the surges 

Of the battle's raging storm. 

Only a little moment, 

The iron-horse delayed; 
Only a hundred forms, silent 

By the road's descending grade. 

Only a flaw in the metal — 
Hark to yon roaring noise ! 

Only a host of loved ones 

Torn from life's sorrows and joys. 

Only a cry by the river, 

Where the pier stands grim and dark; 
Only another lost one 

Afloat in the Styx-lashed bark. 

Only a " No " calmly spoken — 

Only a blighted life, 
Whose tortuous course may be traced 

' Mid the fields of earthly strife. 

Only a glass of w^ine luring, 
Held to lips seemingly brave — 

Only another from honor 

To the depth of a drunkard's grave. 

Only a farewell handclasp — 
Only two mourning hearts — 

Hearts mourning for the friendship 
That Fate hath torn apart. 



57 



Only a word unkindly — 

Only two hearts estranged. 
That would, mayhap, together 

Through life's domain have ranged. 

Only a single misstep 

Taken 'mid life's rocky way; 
Only a path diverging — 

Only a soul led astray. 

Only a Heavenly gleaming 

Of light and truth and love ; 
Only an earth-life saintly 

And bright existence above ! 

1872. 



58 



DEDICATED TO THE BOYS 

Poets when they sing of childhood 

Love to fondly dwell 
On the springtime beauties 'round them — 
Verdant meadows, murmuring streamlets, 
Leafy bowers and wildwood shadows, 
Happy songsters blithely singing, 

Flowers and sunny dells ; 
On the mellow, golden sunlight 
Decking each hill, soft reposing 
In bright robes of nature's weaving, 

With a shimmering crown ; 
On the sparkling, diamond dewdrop, 
On the zephyrs softly sighing. 
On the azure skies above them, 

Smiling sweetly down! 

Not alone 'mid sweet vertumnal, 

Summer scenes and pleasures. 
Childhood, elf of guileless gladness. 
Loves to wander free, unwearied ; 
Flowers, brooks and singing wild birds. 
Though to him endeared, are not 

Childhood's only treasures. 
Stern old winter has an offering 
Which is eagerly accepted, 
Though old fogies, e'er so selfish. 

Otherwise should will. 
Oh, the gladness — some say madness— 
In old Winters' gift embodied ; 
Is there aught on earth that's like it. 

Sleighing on the hill? 



Hear them on the moonlit hill-side ! 

Merry troupe of boys ! 
Lessons over, books forgotten, 
All their other toys discarded; 
Naught to youth is more endeared 
(So the boys say who are knowing) 

Than these winter joys ! 
Well the speeding sleds do merit 
Names such as " Flight- Arrow " " Eeindeer," 
" Champion/' " Eagle '' and " Two-Forty," 

" Foam of Mountain Rill/' 
Over the hill's crest all together; 
" First to reach the goal is victor ! " 
Oh, the keen, exciting pleasure. 

Sleighing on the hill ! 



Now, ahead shoot Jack and Harry ; 

Closely follows Will; 
Hear the crackling — a collision ! 
Headlong down the snowy hill-side 
Boys and sleds — wild intermixture ! 
Laughter, yelling, screaming, kicking. 

Most ludicrous spill! 
In deplorable condition. 
Disentangled, all are standing; 
" First to reach the top ! " suggested 

By mischievous, merry Will; 
Scrambling, crawling, wild endeavors, 
Not a few bones freshly bruised ; 
What are these, though, in the balance 

Of sleighing on the hill! 



60 



Some are gliding easily 

Adown incline of riches; 
Others, upward slowly toiling, 
Try to gain the loved volition ; 
Many — truth's fair beams not heeding — 
Suffer wreck amid the numerous 

Darksome, hidden ditches ; 
Some, with persevering scramble 
Anxiously participating, 
Strive to gain fame's glorious summit. 

Far off, bright and still; 
In whatever light regarded. 
Life is but a snowy hill-side, 
We, the boys enthusiastic. 

Sleighing on the hill ! 

1873. 



61 



SnDian Summer 

Like a dream sent down from Heaven 

To mortal amid the night, 
Cometh the Indian summer 

Amid the autumn's blight; 
And the forests, listening sadl}^ 

To the wild wind's dread alarm, 
Grow bright 'neath the subtle magic 

Of the mystic season's charm. 

Eobed in a glorious beauty, 

The woodlands all now stand, 
And flaunt their bright-dyed raiments 

'Neath the golden sunlight bland ; 
Entrancing hues like the iris 

Of glittering sunset skies 
Dazzle the sight of mortal, 

Who, with rapture, the scene espies. 

The misty skies of azure 

Gaze lovingly, sadly down 
Upon the gorgeous wildwood. 

The landscapes' royal crown; 
The mountains in the distance 

Seem blending with the sky, 
And their haze-enveloped summits 

The eye can scarce descry. 

Enwrapped are the distant woodlands 

By the dreamy purple haze — 
The purple haze of autumn, 

That delights the listless gaze, 
When at morn o'er the vale 'tis floating- 

O'er the stilly intervale; 
When at eve it fondly hovers 

O'er distant glen and dale. 



Eadiant with charms, Aurora 

From her forest couch does rise; 

Who can paint the bewitching splendor 
That illumines her glorious eyes? 

And out in the west-sky's quiet, 
At stilly close of day, 

With a tenfold wilder beauty, 
The sunset burns away. 

And over the babbling streamlet, 

'Mid the balmy atmosphere, 
Prevading each forest, and over 

Each meadow and hill-side sere, 
Is that mystical charm of autumn, 

So dreamily beautiful; 
And the soul partakes to o'erflowing. 

Till the fountains of joy are full. 

glorious Indian summer. 

With thy gorgeous pageantry 
Of wondrous, dreamy beauties! 

There is naught on earth like thee ! 
Thou fillest the soul with rapture, 

Ethereal, heavenly wild — 
Welcome to earth, thrice welcome 

Thou beauteous autumn child ! 

There's a sweetness in the springtime. 

When violets scent the gale; 
There's a beauteous peace in summer 

'Mid woodland and 'mid vale ; 
But this deep, soul-thrilling glory 

Is the Indian summer's alone. 
And the heart is filled with joy e'en though. 

The summer sweets have flown ! 

1872. 



WELCOME^ SWEET SEASON OF FLOWERS ! 

AYelcome, sweet season of flowers — 

Welcome thy bright, joyous reign! 
Green grow the loved forest bowers; 

Streamlets are laughing again; 
Over the green, grassy meadows, 

Bright with tlie daisies' snow spray, 
Guileless ones gladly are straying 

At the flushed break o' the day, — 
While thy bright presence doth hover 

Over the earth, like the sky, 
Painted with azure, upon us 

Smiling serene from on high ! 



Welcome, sweet season of flowers — 

Welcome thy bright, joyous reign! 
Birds of the spring-time are with us — 

With us, with glad songs, again; 
Soft sighs the voice of the breezes 

'Mid the green aisles of the wood. 
Where erst the wild-winds were wailing, 

Where erst but barren trees stood, — 
While thy bright presence doth hover 

Over the earth like the sky 
Painted with azure, and smiling 

Upon us serene from on high ! 



Welcome, sweet season of flowers — • 
Welcome thy bright, joyous reign! 

On the green crests of the hill-tops, 
'Mid the green folds of the plain, 



64 



'Mid the mild shades of the woodland 

Grow the dear offerings of spring — 
Sweet-scented beauties that perfume 

The air, and calm happiness bring, 
While thy bright presence doth hover 

Over the earth, like the sky, 
Smiling serenely upon us, 

From the bright sunlight on high ! 



Welcome, sweet season of flowers — 

Welcome thy bright, joyous reign! 
Countless the blessings thou bringest; 

Countless the joys ours again ! 
Though the calm summer I welcome, 

Thinking of sweet peace in store; 
Though the wild glory of autumn 

To me unfoldeth strange lore; 
Though e^en the winter is hailed. 

When the cold wild-winds loud ring,- 
Loving sweet innocence, love thee 

Best I shall ever, Spring ! 



65 



Cfie Kea0on (DaSp 

Yon ask why we all love Nellie — 
Sweet Nellie, pure and bright, 

With laughing eyes as the sunny skies, 
And heart so joyous and light! 

Ah, stranger, you should but know her — 

Our little village maid — 
Or rather our " village angel," for 

An angel she is 'tis said. 

When nod the golden tassels 
Of grain 'neath the harvest sun. 

And a patch of blue from the zenith down 
Intervenes ere the day is done — 

When the golden, fiery arrows 

Shot down by the day-god's bow, 

Each find a mark in the reapers tired, 
And the fields like a furnace glow — 

When the reapers seek the shadows 
For shelter from the noonday glare. 

Whom should they find but Nellie, 
Waiting to cheer them there ? 

Whom should they find but Nellie, 
Where the oak-tree shadows fall — 

Nellie, with beaming, cheerful face, 
And a kindly word for all ? 

When a worn and weary stranger — 

A wanderer over the earth — 
Passes by in his rovings, our homes, 

An oasis amid the dearth. 



The first to give glad greeting, 
The first with kind sympathy 

For the desolate wand'rer despairing, 
Is our own Nellie Lee ! 

The first by a sick one's bedside, 

The truest friend on earth, 
Is Nellie, our village maiden fair, 

A maiden of sterling worth. 

So that's why we all love Nellie — 
Sweet Nellie, pure and bright, 

With laughing eyes as the sunny skies. 
And heart so joyous and light. 

1873. 



67 



Circling the rustic chimney 'round, 

Sailing away in the ether blue, 
Now lost to sight in the depth profound, 

Then suddenly coming into view. 
And with a musical, twittering noise, 

Flitting by me thro' the orchard trees. 
Uttering a joyous note of farewell 

Ere 'tis gladly borne afar on the breeze. 



Like the steel-blue tip of an arrow shot 

From the forest shades to a castle tower. 
The swallow, with wings outspread, sails to 

The chimney brown from the woodland bower, 
Where it silvered its bill in the waters bright. 

That sparkle amid the vernal shades, 
And sought for its young beneath the eaves, 

The food that waits 'neath the blue grass blades. 



Like the tremulous notes of a silver flute. 

Its loved twitter sounds on the ear ; 
Sweet music, that cheers full many a heart 

In early spring, when the hills are sere ; 
Anon is heard the pleasant chirp, 

And the flutter of restless, glinting wings. 
As it passes by like a happy thought, 

That ever returning pleasure brings. 



No care have they, but build their nests. 
And rear, with joy, their timid young. 

From dawn of spring till the autumn woods 
Their emblazoned banners forth have hung, 

68 



And, then, away to the sunny lands 

Of the South in winter-dread they flee, 

To return again when the spring light shines 
On their tireless wings so wild and free. 

Then, human bewailing thy " fate severe,'' 

Oh, ever like the swallows be — 
Be cheerful always nor seek care — 

Let its dark form be seeking thee. 
And thou canst avert the gloom in part, 

Should e'er its search successful prove, 
By striving to cheer the waiting ones. 

Who in turn will award thee with their love ! 

1872. 



69 



Cfte autumn'0 mini} Lament 

O'er the autumn forests' stricken harps 

The winds wild strains are sighing, 
While mystic voices through the woods' 

Dim aisles are e'er replying; 
List! now a wailing symphony 

Eings 'neath the browning arches, 
And it seems as though a fairy host 

O'er the covered sward went marching, 
As one by one the bright-dyed leaves 

Drop in the gray trunks shading — 
Alas ! how soon are summer's hues 

Doomed to this silent fading. 

Hark, now the autumn wind sigheth low, 

Mid the rustling bows it weepeth, 
For 'neath the folds of faded leaves 

Fair, radiant summer sleepeth. 
List! how mournfully now and low 

The deploring strains forth are swelling. 
" Why mourn, autumn wind, thus thou 

The summer's death art knelling ? " 
The sad-voiced wind paused now and cried : 

" My best friend low, low lieth — 
Summer, bright summer," and onward to moan 

The wild wind, sobbing, hieth. 

" And wilt thou not be comforted ? " 

I in quick sympathy cried. 
Mourning, the wind, in stricken tones, 

To my inquiry replied : 
" Summer, loved summer, my truest friend, 

Low 'neath the leaves reclineth; 
Thou, too, when a loved one dyeth, 

In agony repineth. 

70 



stern winter is not a friend to me. 

But a tyrant fierce, unwinsome, 
Who holdeth to the summer^s home 

The autumn's torches crimson/' 

" Ah, yes," I thought, " it is even so — 

Friends will for friends be weeping; 
Who would not mourn for a loved one low 

In the cold sod silently sleeping ? " 
And though the fervent " Let His w411 be done ! " 

Ascends from the comforter's spirit. 
The inner soul of the stricken one 

Cannot — or will not — hear it, 
" Let His will be done ! " — right, right, it is — 

By his nature-mandate the weeper 
Mourns for the one who lowly lies 

On earth an eternity sleeper! 

1873. 



71 



INSCRIBED TO MISS EMMA E. GONTRUM 

Eavishing sweetness ! soul-stirring harmony ! 

How like a sweet dream of Heaven it thrills 
Deep through the heart, and the holiest chambers 

Of the rapt soul with wild tenderness fills: 
Chaining the mind with links forged b}^ ^olus, 

Linked together by melody sweet; 
Touching the chords that awake the dear memories 

Of the loved hours we sigh e'er to greet ! 

Born in Pierian valleys enchanting, 

Bred 'mid Aonian Helicon's heights, 
Matured 'mid fastness of snowy Parnassus, 

Where thou wast wont to make highest thy flights, — 
Music — 0, music, the world e'er has loved thee, 

Loved thee — ah, 3^es — with a rapturous love; 
For in thy symphonies sweet thou awakest 

All the wild longing for Heaven above ! 

Once in thy youth to Arcadian hill-sides, 

With thy loved harp thou unconsciously strayed. 
Singing sweet songs of earth's beauties and treasures 

And the bright glories the Giver had made; 
And to the shepherds, whose wdiite flocks wide roamed. 

Didst thou essay thy youth's sweet airs to teach ; 
They in their love for the wide-spreading beauties 

Hymned to accord that which bowed not to speech. 

Then to the sea, in its sorrowful silence, 
Power thou gavest its strange tale to tell ; 

And the sweet murmurs of joy echoed o'er it. 
While the bright wavelets rose gladly, then fell. 

72 



Eoaring, anon, the dark waters lashed shoreward, 
And the wild surges lond S3^mphony gave; — 

Yes, ^twas the blending of two ocean voices 
Sweeping up swift from the mariner's grave ! 

Calling the winds to thy side, thou beguiledst, 

But for a while, their swift wandering flight; 
Taught them to sigh 'mid the woodlands — oh! sweetly. 

Sing wild refrains through the valleys at night. 
But yet another voice, ringing and mighty, 

Thou on the wind — like an ocean — bestowed, 
That when vain mortal in arrogance walked. 

These should remind him of Creation's God. 

Thou then attunedst the harps of the nations, 

Giving to each voices loved and two — 
One to sing sweetly when peace brought its blessings 

And with bright gifts sought the fair land to strew; 
One to thrill wild through the countries souls loyal, 

Waking a chord in each patriot heart. 
Till the dark carnage of war hath abated. 

And for far lands war^s grim terrors depart. 

How thy wild strains, deep, oh ! deep the soul thrilling, 

Eising and falling like waves of the sea, 
Bring the sweet memories flown and the visions 

Of the dim future, e'er, music to me. 
Yes, with thy symphonies wild, sublime, beauteous, 

Music — music, reign, e'er o'er the sod; 
For with thy glorious soul thou dost bring us 

N'earer to Heaven and nearer to God ! 



73 



Deatli at Clo0e 2Df Dap 

Hear the sobbing, hear the sighing, 
Hear the moaning, hear the crying, 
As the wild wind sweeping upward 
From the valley where the dying 
'Neath the " vict'ry flag " are lying, 
Moans athwart the brazen hill-tops. 
With the ragged rocks replying, 
With the echo backward hieing; 
While above the crested mountains — 
'Bove the forest-crested mountains. 
Mighty pylons of the sunset. 
Burns the bright da/s glowing embers — 
Day that now is swiftly dying — 
List ! the faltering tones grow weaker : 
See ! the day-beams fast are flying — 
Now the night shuts o'er the dying : 
Hushed the voices as the gleaming — 
The last silver, glistening gleaming — 
Fades beyond the lonely mountains! 
Yes — the death was not as hated, 
For the day with them was dying ! 
And they knew the new morn breaking, 
Would be brighter, on the waking. 

Than the earth-morn's rosy light. 
For though Death's dark frown was round them, 
And his hoary chain had bound them, 
Sweeter seemed the promised glory 

For the darkness of the night ! 



74 



Cfte 3Ipine J^imter 

FREE TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER 

" Wilt thou not be lambkin^s watcher ? 

Lambkin is so sweet and mild, 
Lives amid the meadow flow'rets. 

Playful by the brooklet wild." 
" Mother, mother, let me hasten 

Where the wild-goat takes its flights; 
I would hunt amid the mountains — 

^Mid the mountain's frowning heights ! " 

"Wouldst thou not the white flocks summon, 

With the horn's notes loud and long ? 
Sweetly sounds the belFs soft chimings 

In the woodland pleasure song/' 
" Mother, mother, let me wander. 

When the east beams rosy lights, 
Where the cliffs are grandly looming, — 

'Mid the mountain's wildest heights ! " 

" Wilt thou not tend the sweet flow'ret 

Gleaming in its bed, so bright ? 
There no garden doth invite thee : 

Child, 'tis wild upon the heights ! " 
" Let the flow'ret bloom, mother ; 

Let me journey to the hills. 
Where the wild gazelle is fleeing, 

In the light of flashing rills." 

And the boy amid the mountains 

As a hunter, wandered on ; 
Now the wild game stands before him, 

And again he looks — 'tis gone ! 
Thus ambition drags him onward 

To the mountain's darkest haunt : 
Trembling the gazelle is fleeing 

From him, o'er the rocks so gaunt. 

6 75 



Ringing o'er the naked rib-rocks, 

It doth climb with lightsome swing; 
Through the abyss black and yawning, 

Bounding now, with desp'rate spring. 
Following ever — unrelenting, 

Comes the hunter swiftly now — 
Ever nearing, nearing, nearing 

With the shaft of death and bow ! 

Now upon the cliffs o'erhanging 

Clinging now in wild despair. 
Where the rocks o'erlook the abyss 

And afar the white cliffs stare : 
Far below the ragged flint rocks 

Piercing upward through the rift ; 
Near behind the hunter's mercy 

And the arrow strong and swift! 

How the wild eyes are beseeching 

For its life of hunter stern ; 
But in vain it pleadeth — even 

Now, the hand the arrow turns! 
Suddenly from rocks emerging. 

Steps the Spirit of the Hills : 
'Tis the hoary Age of Mountains; 

And his mien with anger fills ! 

And his Godly hands upraising, 

Doth protect the followed game. 
" Must thou send death, pain," he crieth, 

" To the haunts that hold my name ! 
Boom for all the green earth giveth, 

And the ocean's foamy brine — 
Boom for all the green earth giveth. 

Why dost follow flocks of mine ? " 



76 



Dark cloulcls obscure the sun. The slumbering winds 

Rise, and in sullen fury rush athwart 

The moaning deep. The dark and rolling waves, 

Crested with spray, grow with each wailing gust; 

And soon they ride black billows on the wide 

And weird ocean waste. Hark ! to the thunder's deep 

And rolling tones ; each crested wave doth leap 

With fear, as cometh from the murky clouds 

The awful sounds. The -wind's wdld strains are hushed. 

As loud reverberates the storm-king's voice. 

Upon the black and restless deep heard calling 

His list'ning hosts, wild-browed and of boding mien. 

ISTow darker grow the heavens. In the shade 

Of the storm-clouds grim, a crystal foam is rising. 

Upon whose seething crest the feathery spray 

Doth glance. Yon gallant ship, which proudly rides 

Upon the leaping waves, now furls her broad 

And glittering sails : close-reefed, awaits she now 

The storm-king's power. A hollow, rumbling sound 

Is heard : outlined against the brooding sky, 

Comes madly on the mighty line of breakers, 

As, like a vast, vast caldron, hiss and roar 

The seething waves. Athwart the inky sky, 

Now gleam the vivid lightnings ; and the grim 

And skurrying clouds are breathing forth their deep 

And awful thunder. The black tumultuous waves — 

The lightnings pale and blue, as swift they glance 

Athwart the paths of the dark heavens — and 

The thunder's rolling, echoing tones — all are 

Blended in grand sublimity. But where 

Is the kingly ship which erst did ride upon 

The waves in silent majesty ? Ah ! where ? 

Amid the whirling waters deep engulfed ! 

77 



But no ! for see ! its painted hull doth gleam 

Upon the crest of yon high-rolling billow. 

As reeds upon the mountain side are snapped 

By moaning autumn gale^ so the towering masts. 

Ah ! where is all thy vaunted power, man ? 

Where all thy vaunted skillf ulness ? Oft hast thou, 

When calm upon the ocean lay, boasted 

Of thy skill to elude the tempest's dangers — now ! 

Seest how vain were all thy boastings, idly given ? 

Naught, naught, can save yon ship, yon sailor bold, 

But His hand thrust amid the furious storm. 

Thou seest now thy strength, mariner, 

Upon the black main mercilessly tossed ! 

So on the sea of life some think to sail 

Attended not by His own loving care : 

How soon amid the wild storms they are lost. 

Praying for heavenly aid as they go down ! 



78 



S©iD0ummet 

The woodlands all are draped in green, 
Bright in the summer sunlight's sheen; 
Blue is the arch of heaven above, 
Smiling upon us with candid love — 
Calm and serene as the peaceful breast 

Of a lake enwrapped by hazy hills, 
When the sunset's hue has burned away, 

And shadow faint the ether fills. 
The sunny meadows stretch away 

Like undulating waves of green, 
The gently-sloping, wood-crowned hills 

That rise the wavy folds between 
Like wooded islands from the sea, 
Seem beckoning ever unto me. 

The tasseled chestnut bows and waves. 

And flaunts its banner in the sun, 
From radiant morn till the sunset wild 

Burns on the west when the day is done; 
And tattered lines of the daisies gleam 
Where the rivulet shines like a midday beam ; 
Against the clear lake's silver sheen 
The willows trail their whips of green; 
And lazily rippling the water's edge. 
The old canoe floats 'mid the sedge. 
The feathered grasses nod to please 
The caprice of the perfumed breeze. 

Like reefs of coral gleaming 'mid 
A sea that rolleth emerald surge. 

The village cots, in humble row. 

Do mark the meadow^s farthest verge: 

A hallowed spot, where sweet content 
Doth rule upon her rustic throne — 

79 



A peaceful paradise, where love 

Delights the soul with her harp's sweet tone — 
A rural refuge, where the mind 
Sweetest of peace and rest rnay find. 



Pleasant and low are the sounds that charm 

The attentive ear — from the silver chime 
Of the village bell to the timid chorus 

Of crickets brown at eventime. 
Now sighs the breeze o'er the soft-toned lyres 

Formed by the boughs interlacing oft; 
I pause and list with enraptured ear 

To the zephyr's summer love-notes soft. 
And sweetly the brook's low melody 
Blends with the voices, glad and free, 
Of rustic children engaged in play 
Busily all through the summer's day. 
Anon the wild-dove's loving coo 
Breaketh the woodland's silence through; 
And drowsy birdlets give reply 
In sleepy notes from their perch on high ; 
'Mid the shadowy boughs they idly sway, 
Nor dream of much singing this summer day. 



x4s light and dew upon the flowers 

Growing within the graden wall, 
So on the garden of the soul 

Thy sweets, celestial summer, fall; 
And silently stealeth o'er each sense 
The charm of thy soothing influence. 
radiant days of the summer-tide ! 

hours of sweet ecstatic calm ! 
When, free from the fetters of strife and care, 

The soul may quaff the nectar balm; 

80 



When, ^mid the holy peace and quiet, 
Man to his Maker may humbly turn, 

And unrestrained within his heart 

The fires of faith and praise may burn. 

What mission more noble, more grand than thine. 

Thou Maiden of Summer from realms divine ! 

1873. 



81 



Cfte Catriet'0 (Sreeting 

Friends and Patrons, list, I pray. 
To the Carrier's annual lay — 
Lay composed while bells were tolling, 
While his eye in " frenzy rolling,'' 
Saw the youthful year erratic 
Ushering in new joys ecstatic ; 
For there's naught more influential 
With the Carrier's lyre potential 
Than the semi-mournful tear 
Shed o'er the departing year ; 
But he thrusts aside his sadness. 
And his sorrow turns to gladness, 
Lo ! his lines, in woe begun. 
Into happier numbers run. 
He attempts a " liquid ditty " 
To beguile " ye ancient city." 



By this morning salutation, 
Couched in evanescent rhyme. 
Know ye that the Old Year's Eecords 
Have been laid with care paternal 
On the dusty shelves of Time. 
Father Time ! Majestic foreman ! 
In the world's composing office 
Issuing forth commands sublime. 
Has decreed that all engraven 
Clear on Volume Seventy-Seven 
Should be labelled and remitted 
To the dingy nook most fitted. 
Many joys and many sorrows 
Have been " set up " for each page. 
And the " proof " has been " corrected " 
By the wrinkled hand of Age. 

82 



Ah ! how many in the future 
Will be pouring o'er the volume, 
Where is chronicled the past; 
But how few will learn the lessons, 
And how many soon will leave it, 
And neglect its truth at last. 
Consequently I salute you 
With the friendly admonition, 
That you'll not forget to read them. 
In the future you will need them — 
That you'll turn them o'er and o'er. 
All these truths within the Eecord ; 
And may joys attend your labor, 
Highest happiness surround you; 
May the Carrier next year find you 
Happy as this morn he found you. 



May old pleasures be repeated 
In the New Year just begun; 
May there be no sad reminders 
When the year its course has run. 
But amid these num'rous blessings, 
'Mid the young year's fond caress. 
Don't forget, kind friends, that nothing 
Is more pressing than the Press. 
Don't forget that a proportion 
Of the joys of vanished days 
Have been furnished by the Carrier 
Wending on his weekly ways; 
Think of all the mental pleasures 
From the weekly sheet derived; 
Let not, then, your friend, the Carrier, 
Of full gladness be deprived. 



83 



3[ime Kose^ 

The roses, kissed by the southwind free, 

Unfold their dewy leaves; 
And their fragrance sweet the air prevades, 

While the dawn bright meshes weaves. 

Bright jewels, they are, on the bosom of 

Voluptuous, loving June, 
Whose garments are brightest green o' the woods, 

And whose world is in perfect tune. 

Nodding beside the garden wall. 

Glistening with diamond dew. 
That nestled 'mid their leaflets fair. 

When the wind at ev'ning blew. 

The breeze doth waft their sweet perfume 
Through the casement ivy- wreathed ; 

And many the summers when, just as now, 
It through the window breathed. 

The blue sky looking lovingly down, 

Smiles on each new-born flower. 
That decks, like rubies from the sea. 

The green and wavy bower. 

What lovelier flower than this could we 

Wish, to strew the path we tread ? 
What lovelier face to smile on us. 

Than the blue sky overhead? 



84 



T5itt)S m Opting 

Hark, to the tremulous, gladsome notes 

That quiver upon the air of morn ! 
And see the flash of the warbler's wings 

Where he sways upon a nodding thorn; 
List, how the happ}^ notes are caught 

B}^ many sweet songsters delighted, free; 
And oh ! how the soul may drink it in — 

This beautiful, rapturous melody. 

Merrily flitting to and fro, 

Chirruping gaily, the busy wren 
Builds in a cosy niche, 'neath the eaves, 

Now that the spring has come again; 
The romping child at the cottage door, 

Pauses in wonder and delight, 
And laughs with glee as the bird, drawn near, 

Timidly gazes with eyes star-bright. 

On the rustic, vine-wreathed garden wall, 

A beautiful bluebird trills its lay. 
Busily, earnestly seeking the while 

A twig for the nest hid snugly away ; 
And a merry robin, whose heart is so full 

That he can do naught but sit and sing, 
Pours forth such a sweet, soul-thrilling song. 

That orchard and garden with joyance ring. 

On a bloomy spray the blackbird swa3's. 

So blithely and clearly singing the while. 
That even the sparrow, to gaze, desists 

From his search by the side of a tott'ring stile; 
While, twittering ever so joyously. 

The swallow swift-winged circles high in air; 
Wild with delight as he gazes down 

Upon earth, once more growing bright and fair. 

«5 



Sweet birds of spring, ye have come again 

To gladden the weary heart of man; 
Your mission is noble, your presence dear — 

So warble as sweetly as ever you can. 
You bring a smile to the saddest face, 

A happy light to the gloomiest eye ; 
And e^er when the thread of your songs they may trace 

Heart-broken lovers forget to sigh. 

Dear birds of spring, though the vernal earth 

Abound in the beautiful far and near. 
Half of their charm would be lost did we know 

They brought not with them your presence dear. 
Sweet poets of nature, naught, naught, have I heard 

That thrills through the heart with such joyous ring, 
Awaking long dormant happiness. 

As your blithesome notes, birds of spring ! 

1876. 



after Cfte ismit 

Golden and crimson glory 

Around the day-god shone, 
As he looked his last on the battle-field, 

With bloody corpses strewn. 

Sadly the sun sank down, 

Just as though mourning he 
For the many brave hearts who met death that day 

In the battle's mad melee. 

And one by one the stars 

Through their curtains blue peep down; 
But they seem to gaze more soberly 

Upon this twilight broAvn. 

Far up amid the boughs 

The night wind mourneth, too, 
Sighing ever so plaintively 

The tangled tree-tops through. 

It stirs the wavy folds 

Of the flag planted proudly there; 
But they idly sway in the sunset's gold. 

And flaunt not on the air. 

For torn by shot and shell 

Was the dear old flag that day; 
Aye, a rent for every form that fell 

And now so silent lay. 

From the red contention ground 

The wounded have all been borne. 
The living will come again, they say, 

And " bury their dead " in the morn. 

87 



Ah ! how many a mother's heart 

With anguish wild was torn ! 
Ah ! how many a maiden sorrow learned, 

Upon that golden morn ! 

Not only the soldier brave 

Offers life at his country's call ; 
There's another who forfeits earthly joy 

Should the martial hero fall. 

One other breast does bleed 

When falls a nation's son; 
And 'twere just as well did the bullet pierce 

Two hearts instead of one. 

1873. 



88 



Cfte ©ID geat'0 9iournet$ 

Hark to the death-sad song of the winds, 

As they wildly monrn for the Old Year dying; 

While rugg'd rocks, keeping their midnight watch 
Hoarse through the soughing pines are replying! 

The whispering pines, that sadly sway 

'Gainst the starlit sky, in dark array, 
On the lonely mountain side. 



The silver light of the winter stars. 

Struggles down thro' the tangled forest shades. 
With sadness in each ray, and lies 

Forlorn and pale 'mid the wild-wood glades. 
Each faded leaf that, dangling, clings 
To the boughs, like a birdlet's broken wing, 
Gives low and sad complaint ! 



Afar off, on the sounding shore, 

I hear the wild sea's mournful dirge, — 

Eestlessly, the blue waves toss and moan 

On the sands and the rocks, till lost in the surge; 

And ever the waving pines among. 

Comes the doleful dirge of the solemn song. 
Heard at the midnight hour. 



The ambient atmosphere seems laden 
With sorrow down — as all the earth : 

Far flown bright seasons — naught remains 
But the dreary future and winter's dearth. 

All nature mourns the dying year. 

Lying so desolate on his bier 

Of pallid, moonlit snow. 

89 



Upon his brow, the tangled locks 

Like silver glisten in the moon. 
And thus, in fancy, I see him die, 

Who has given me such a priceless boon — 
A book from the endless lore of Time, 
A book of sweet, poetic rhyme. 

That rings yet in my soul ! 

Sincerest mourner thine, I am, 

Old Year, my friend. I fain would bid 
Thee stay ; yet so it cannot be. 

Within my soul shall e'er be hid 
The precious thoughts thou gavest me ; 
While thou, from vast Eternity, 

Shall backward gaze, and smile! 

1872. 



90 



Cfte ©ID arljot 

Alone and silent now it stands, 

In the ivy's close embrace : 
The clinging tendrils o'er it creep, 

In their wild and woodland grace. 

All hush'd the dear old haunt of yore ; 

Naught but the whisperings low, 
Of the light breeze 'midst the shadows 

Are the sounds of long ago. 

Though dark and grave, thou arbor old, 
Sweet memories round thee cling; — 

Yea, fonder than the sunbeams bright 
When smiles the gladsome Spring. 

How joyous, when the sunny May 
Breathed 'midst the flow'rets fair, 

Come the merry sounds of childhood 
On the incense-laden air. 

And 'twas here, when green the arches 
Glistened in the sunlight's sheen. 

With a wreath of wildwood flowers 
We were wont to crown our queen. 

And again the spring-time cometh 
With the flowerets' sweet perfume; 

But no blithesome, happy voices 
Break the arbor's stilly gloom. 

The friends of youth have roamed afar ; 

Some now sleep 'mid distant climes; 
And alone my steps have wandered 

To the scenes of olden times. 



91 



And while musing o'er the pleasant past, 
'Neath the arbor quaint and old, 

A brief respite is awarded, — 
From the worldly cares untold. 

Much loved relic of sweet childhood, 
When this frail frame is no more, 

May'st thou gladden hearts untainted. 
As thou didst the friends of yore. 

May thy shades so dark and pensive. 
Be made bright by presence there : 

May'st thou to some worldworn pilgrim 
Bring a balm to soften care. 

1871. 



92 



S)un6eam 

"'Twas when the breath of sunny, joyou8 Spring 

Came from the woodlands o'er the meadow green, 
While songsters bright, with ceaseless happy ring. 

Gave welcome to the golden sunlight's sheen; 
When all was brightness o'er the smiling earth ; 

And happiness reigned in our village home, 
Kemorseless death spread forth his shadowy hand. 

And Angels whispered unto Nellie : ' Come ! ' 

" Ah, how I watched beside my darling's bed, 

Yet hoping still to break the silent spell — 
Oh Agony ! my heart in anguish bled 

To see my Nellie fade ! Ah, none can tell 
The gloom and sadness 'round a mother's heart, 

To see her only child — her only pride 
Fall, stricken low by death's unerring dart 

And borne afar upon eternity's vast tide! 

" The soft spring sunlight quivered o'er the floor, 

And fell upon my darling's golden hair: 
She murmured childish sweet : ' At Heaven's door, 

Dear mother — I'll be waiting for thee there; 
I'm going there,' she said — a peaceful smile: 

The sunlight seemed to part for evermore 
As Nellie's spirit, pure and free from guile 

Winged soft its way unto the Heavenly shore ! 

" And now she sleeps beneath the valley green ; 

The flowers she loved so well, bend o'er her grave; 
A weeping willow adds its shade serene, 

Its drooping banners seem in grief to wave. 
And as I bow where falls thy pensive shade, 

emblem of my grief and sadness deep, 
I love to think, when I shall here be laid 

Beside my Nellie's grave, in peaceful sleep. 

93 



" They called thee Little Sunbeam, treasure bright, 

So sweetly sleeping ^neath the turf all fair, 
And now it seems each ray of happy light 

Had faded from my path, — and darkness there 
Tells of the transient reign of mortal bliss — 

Of all the joys that stir the human breast; 
And wakes a deeper longing to lie where 

The willow waves, in calm serenest rest." 

Thus murmured a mother sad in twilight gray, 

While bending low above a flowery grave; 
And as she spake of her who peaceful lay 

Where flowers bloom and bright, green grasses wave, 
A silent tear would come — and then her gaze. 

Went longingly toward the distant skies. 
With face upturned in twilight's gathering haze. 

And form that shook with griefs engulfing sighs. 

mother, kneeling where thy darling lies, 

A dazzling brightness waits thee far away, 
Where, with thy " Little Sunbeam " in the skies, 

No shades can reach thee through th^ eternal day. 
blessed reunion on the other shore. 

Where all is joy and " sunbeams '' never wane ; 
Where all may greet in love, to part no more; 

And blessedness and harmony do reign. 



94 



3 3fune Qiornins 

The mists unveil the mountains blue, and bright 

And brighter grows the empyreal flush of morn; 
The morning star fast wanes ; and through the haze 

Sounds cheerily the clang of hunter's horn 
Heralding the dawn, whose beaming, roseate glow — 

Like on a maiden's cheek the conscious blush 
Of love — suifuses the fair face of day — 

Of glorious June, with its deepening blush. 
While on the blue-wrapped hills so far away, 
Like white-robed angel forms the sunbeams play. 



Immuring — like a wall — the meadows green, 

The woodlands shimmer in the day-dawn's hue ; 
And, as the slcy grows brighter, red sunbeams 

Kiss the green sward, the tree-tops piercing through. 
The wild-rose bending in the woodland dell. 

With silent joy the happy sunbeams hails ; 
The daisy pure, and modest, sweet bluebell. 

Are tinged brightly by the burnished mail. 
Each tender flow'ret of the wildwood green, 
Weeps tears of joy amid the sunlight's sheen. 



The roses hiding 'mid the garden bed. 

Lift their glad forms as o'er the garden wall 
The red sunlight falls ; and fairer, brighter grows 

The blush upon their dewy petals. All 
The sweet inhabitants of garden fair. 

Turn their bright faces to the growing morn. 
And seem to murmur, as the southwind free 

Essays to waft them to where blue hills, shorn 
Of gloom and grayness, pierce the arching sky. 
To be kissed by the crimson glow so far on high. 

95 



The village church-spire — like the morning star 

Slow fading 'mid bright'ning advent o' the day — 
Gleams, like the light 'mid sky of Bethlehem, 

Above the steepled, modest church-tower gray. 
The peaceful cots that form the village fair, 

Seem doubly beauteous in the morning light. 
All scenes are heavenly in the glorious day, 

That pierces with its shafts the shades of night. 
How beautiful the scene of peace and love. 
With the bending azure sky of June above ! 

Unto the meadows haste the lowing herd. 

There to beguile the day of plenteous feast : 
The cow-boy's whistle breaks upon the ear ; — 

All nature wakes 'neath brightness o' the east. 
The rabbit leaps from out the wildwood maze ; 

The ploughman's shout is heard among the hills ; 
While, with a joyous melody, the sound 

Of guileless voices all the soft air fills, — 
Lo ! flashing up behold the royal sun. 
The world awakes ; the loved day has begun ! 

The birds their anthems sing unto the skies, 

Welcoming the birth of such a glorious day ; 
The streamlet murmurs peacefully along, 

Now pausing 'mid its flowery meadow way. 
Yes, in this scene of beauty I behold 

What weary mortal e'er has sought before — 
A spot where vice, in crawling serpent's form, 

Has never dared to seek the peasant's door ! 
Yet oh ! the thought comes ever back to me. 
That thousand scenes on earth are sad to see ! 



96 



KeanfotceD 

The noise of battle rolled wide, and shook each rocky 
base; 

A gloomy pall hung threatening o'er nature's smiling 
face. 

A few of brave old Marylanders held countless foes at 
bay — 

Through all the darksome night they'd fought, through 
all the sunny day ; 

And now, as burned, on western hills, the bloody sun- 
set's pyre. 

They felt their weary ranks grow less, before the legion's 
fire. 

The shades of eve were closing 'round ; their forms were 
wearied now, 

They saw the slanting rays grow less upon the moun- 
tain's brow; 

Yet still they all undaunted fought — the vesper star 
glowed bright: 

They saw their comrades falling 'round, and dying with 
the light; 

Yet the valiant braves of Maryland resolved ne'er to 
yield — 

With face unto the thronging foe, they trod the bloody 
field. 

They fought, yet oh, to battle on, with hope's star grow- 
ing dim. 

Was anguish to each noble heart! Yet to the cannon 
grim. 

They plied the fitful flaming torch ! To flee, as cowards 
flee. 

They never for a moment thought: they saw 'twas His 
decree ! 

97 



never, from advancing foes, brave Maryland sons 

retreat : 
They better love a hero's death than inglorious defeat ! 

And he, who led the gallant band that fought so val- 
iantly, 

Was ever — 'mid the thickest fight — as brave as brave 
can be. 

His gleaming blade dripped human gore, all fell before 
his stroke. 

As cheered he on his hero band 'mid shout and battle 
smoke ! 

Yet now his flushed features wore a look of stern de- 
spair — 

Ah! gloomier than the clouds of war that hid the day 
beams fair. 

" One fierce, wild charge, my gallant lads ! " he cries, in 

clarion notes. 
That far above the battle's din in clear distinctness 

floats — 
" Then die as men — as heroes, die ! return each coward 

blow ; 
Then bid farewell to earthly ties, and all that's dear 

below ! " 
''Our captain brave forever!'' It echoes loud and long; 
Then forward, with new energy, the Marylanders 

throng. 

Each eye doth gleam, each face is set to make the fear- 
ful charge — 

To charge and then — to stand upon eternity's vast 
marge ! 

When lo ! from out the eastern hills, there comes a 
bugle blast; 

And mingling voices joyfully cry, ''At last they come — 
at last!'' 

98 



Amid the hills bright weapons gleam — flash in the last 

faint ray, 
Which gilds the western mountains blue — the lingering 

beam of day. 

A cry arose on either side : one spoke of rage and fear, 
The other cheered : " Brave Maryland and all her scenes 

so dear!'' 
From out the gathering darkness rode brave gallants 

clad in blue; 
And soon the dastard legions vast, were pierced through 

and through ! 
United now were they whose deeds no pen can e'er 

define — 
United now the living of the brave Old Maryland Line ! 

And when the fair moon rode on high, and gazed 
brightly down, 

A gallant flag waved proudly forth, by mountain zephyrs 
blown. 

It flaunted o^er the d3dng: It waved above the dead; 

To plant it there brave men had fought, brave Mary- 
land sons had bled ! 

A spotless glory shrouds the memory divine 

Of the gallant braves who fought amid the dear Old 
Maryland Line ! 



90 



a 3lune SDpI 

SONNET 

A meadow fence that courts the woodland shade; 

An oak-tree far outstretching tVard the mead; 

A silver brook, whose wandering waters lead 
A sunlike gleam, like shining silver braid, 
Athwart the meadow, to this beauteous glade. 

Where 'round a cascade's rim the fragile reed 

Bends to the evanescent lights that speed 
Swift onward. Here — like modest maid — 
The wild-rose bows unto the crystal spray, 

Upon its shining petals to receive 
The bright and glittering diamond drops, that play, 

And, ever, 'bout its form, a halo weave. 
Far overhead, the blue skies, lovely, gay. 

Naught, naught, is here the human heart to grieve! 



100 



Cfte Coming SDf Opting 

There is a nameless something that pervades 

The air of morn and thrills the very sonl 

With pure delight. A beauty undefined 

Dwells ^mid the sunlight that partakes e'en now 

Of summer warmth. I drink the morning air, 

Fresh with a wandering sweetness, as when, 'mid 

The summer glow, I eager kneel and quaff 

The cooling draught that bubbles up amid 

The flowery sward ; for now bowed Winter's form 

Passeth from view amid the receding storms. 

His white locks waving 'mid the blue of time, 

Distant and past; and o'er the beauteous earth 

The Storm King stern, and drear, and wild, hath ceased 

To reign supreme. The sunlight's arrows bright 

Have pierced the howling demons of the storm; 

The archer, Time, forever unrelenting, 

Hath sent the gleaming shafts on their ST\dft course. 

And SO I wander 'mid the scented wood. 
With April breeze fanning soft my brow. 
And bringing sweet thoughts of a milder reign 
Than that which marked the winter pitiless 
And rude, with their refreshing coolness. Oh ! I love 
To stray 'mid the sunlit forest where erst gloomed 
The winter sadness, and mark the bright queen's com- 
ing;— 
There to behold the glow unfolding of 
Each tiny bud, and list, with rapturous ear. 
Unto the robin's first glad trill of joy. 

The balmy breezes waft the sweet perfume 

Of violets from the woodland dells, — the breath 

Of sunny, joyous Spring. And as, with gaze 

101 



Delighted, I thus wander on, beneath 

A gray and hoary oak I first behold 

A modest violet growing side by side 

With sweet forget-me-not which meekly turns 

Its tiny face unto the light ; amid 

The velvet turf it nestles deep and warm, 

A beauteous gem amid the wild. O'ercome 

With modesty, the violet droops its head, 

As if by human presence it did suffer taint. — 

gentle harbingers of spring — of fair 

And smiling spring, growing all bright beneath 

The giant oak-tree's shade in sweet contentment! — 

Oh ! I love to muse within the silent wood. 

Beneath the forest giant, where two bright gems 

Give welcome to the dearest season of the year. 

Upon the advent of that gentle queen 

Whose presence bringeth joy and gladness to 

The earth; entrancing bliss, forgetfulness 

And harmony to man. violet blue ! 

From 'mid the shadows mild dost thou diffuse 

To all the sweetness of thy breath. Thou art 

Like Humility herself, who from the throne 

Of the Almighty Power does receive 

Bright blessings and the genial sunshine of 

Religion pure, and give unto all men 

Unselfishly the potent elixir, 

That Cometh from the bright celestial realms ! 

The picture of sweet innocence and faith. 

Forget-me-not, thou art a Heavenly gift, 

Prized more than e'er the blushing rose of June; 

For dost thou not with thy sweet presence teach 

The lesson of humility? Art thou not 

An example of divine equality 

To all? Then thrice a joyous welcome, fair 

And lovely heralds of the spring's bright queen. 

Whose scented breath e'en now perfumes the wood ! 

102 



Emblem of Purity ! Content to hide amid 

The sward and blossom 'mid lowliest walks, the meek 

And timid snowdrop holdeth low its head. 

What fear, wee, modest floweret? The winter storms 

Have passed away ! Come forth from thy lowly bed 

And greet the happy sunlight and our queen, 

Whose radiant purity e'en now illumines 

The greening earth. Awake, bright floweret, 

And cast thy sweets upon the April breeze ! 

Upon each tree the fresh and tender buds, 

Now springing into life, proclaim unto 

The forest birds the smiling spring-time clear, — 

Proclaim the happiest season of the year — 

A bounteous feast, unshadowed happiness; 

And myriad feathered songsters of the wood 

Trill their glad lays of unutterable delight, 

As from the balmy air, with dancing eyes. 

They first receive the mystic intelligence. 

The bluebird and the jay, the poet robin, 

Whose breast was dyed while sorrowing in the sky 

By autumn sunset — all are here ! Dear birds 

What sadness stirred my breast when from the wood, 

Affrighted by the moaning blast, ye fled ; 

And now ye are with us once again to wake 

The chord of poesy in each glad heart 

To songs of praise to the sweet songs ye sing — 

Which make the forest flowers smile with joy. 

And wake the echoes of the happy years long flown ! 

Hark ! sweet murmuring music comes from out the 

wood. 
And mingles with the happy song of birds, 
xlnd blending thus, imparts unto their lays 
Most ravishing sweetness. harmonious sounds 
Of nature, doubly dear, tox long have ye 
Been hushed by fiercest discord of the storm! 

103 



The rippling murmurs seem more loud as 'mid 
Sequestered glen I stray unconsciously : 
Ah ! 'tis the happy music of the brook, 
As leap the waters o'er the pebbles white 
That form its bed. Here, flashing brightly in 
The yellow sunlight, it goes bounding on; 
There, rippling peacefully amid the shade, 
It laves the greening banks. The flow'rets, 
Yet few, receive the first glad greeting of 
The waters bright with tranquil joy. Anon 
The tiny petals glisten with the drops 
Of crystal spray. Laugh on, streamlet, 'mid 
Woodland and vale, make music in the glen; 
The Ice King's power is gone, the Winter King 
Himself lies dead upon the greening sward ! 

With pleasant thoughts, I wander thro' the wood, 
Whose banners green bright fairies soon shall lift 
Above the winter sereness. My roving steps 
Soon carry me unto the meadow's verge. 
Just where the woodland shadows softly blend 
With the green of the meadow grass ; and as I near 
The straggling fence that winds amid the shade, 
The notes of sweetest singing fall upon 
My listening ear. I e'en may catch the words, 
To treasure them within my heart for aye. 
Of such sweet import is the happy song: 

Now the winter storms have fled 

And the Frost King lieth dead; 
Now the breath of wildwood flowers perfumes the breeze. 

April blossoms now are springing 

Upward to the light where, winging 
Their glad flight, the songsters sing amid the trees ! 

Joyous welcome, happy Spring, 

Let thy praises thousands ring, 

104 



For thou bringest joy to old and young alike ! 

Beauteous Spring, Fve hailed thee ever; 

I have loved thee ever, ever, 
For thou bringest joy to rich and poor alike ! 

And as the last faint echo died away 

Upon the breeze that bore it 'mid the aisles 

Of hollow-sounding forest trees, I stept 

Upon the meadow-green and gazed around, 

And there beneath an oak-tree's shade beheld 

Two sunny maidens weaving 'mid their hair 

Of wavy gold, blue violets. Anon 

Their laughter rang upon the April air. 

lovely picture of sweet childish faith — 

Of innocence and laughing happiness. 

Oh! would that thou, bright Queen of Spring, could 

teach 
To mortals all such guilelessness and love ! 

Again we bid thee welcome, happy Spring — 
Welcome thy joyous reign ! Thy gentle wand 
Doth sway the heart of man, softens his cares, 
Imbues new life into each weakened limb — 
How sweet to stray when thou reign'st green, amid 
The tangled wild, or o'er the flowing mead, 
To cull the flow'rets from their grassy beds. 
And weave into bright garlands to adorn 
Our May Queen's tresses golden fair ; how sweet 
To muse beneath the greenwood tree when breath 
Of honeysuckle perfumes the air, when birds 
Of brightest plumage, with sweet carolings 
Awake the forest echoes 'round — when all 
Nature brings loveliest offerings, and lays 
Them at thy feet, beauteous Queen of Spring ! 



106 



^attie0t Cime 

In iris light the harvest morn 
Is draping the eastern sky; 

The stars are fading, one by one, 
Amid the blue on high. 



The purple and the crimson hues, 
Now brightening in their glow. 

Are blending — oh, so beauteous with 
The waving gold below. 



Now o'er the hills and mists of blue, 
Comes the radiant orb of day; 

The soft winds from the meadow waft 
The lark's ascending lay. 



The reapers from their village home, 
Now seek the glowing fields, 

To gather while the days are bright, 
The store which the harvest yields. 



The golden grain is nodding low 

Beneath the summer sun. 
And soon the bright blades rustling go- 

The harvest has begun. 



The brooklets voice, low murm'ring where 
It wanders the meadow round, 

Sweet mingles with the rustlings when 
The golden sheaves are bound. 

106 



The soft winds o' the summer bring 
The scent of new-mown hay; 

For here, too, gleams amid the mead 
The scythe's blade in the day. 



The iris tints o' the sunset 
Are lingering in the West ; 

The king of day, in his splendor, 
Is sinking down to rest. 



The last beams, faintly gilding bright 
The fields where waveth the grain, 

Are falling o'er the yellow domes, 
Erect in the mellow rain. 



When brightly smiles again the morn, 
^Tis taken in triumph home, — 

All stored away for bleaker days, 
When winter snows shall come. 



Then thou, who, midst the joys of life, 
Heed'st not the fleeting days. 

Who idly whilest the golden hours. 
Amid life's sinful ways. 



As on the harrest scene thou gaz'st, 
Think of the winter dark 

Of life, to which thou'rt hastening 
Within thy little bark. 

107 



Where deeper gloom will wrap the path, 

Lit by no cheering rays, 
Of him who idly gazed on 

When smiled life's harvest days. 



Then toil and strive as laboreth 
The reaper 'mid the field; 

And sweet content, and blessings vast 
Will be thy harvest yield. 



And shonld thy store all richer prove, 
Perchance thou mayest save 

A brother wanderer, who in dread 
Looks onward to the grave. 



And he will bless thee — all will praise 
Thee with declining breath; — 

And thou canst bow with smiling face 
Before the reaper Death. 



108 



Cfte Lone i^untet 

Far away in the realms of the gloom-crested forests 

Stood, ^mid the wild shades, a small cabin decked o'er 
By the wild vines and ivies that hung in their beauty, 

And coiled, in wild grace, round the still, darkened 
door. 
Here had lived, in the solitude, far from the bustle — 

Far away from the voices and stare of all men, 
A lone hunter, who, ^mid the bright day, chased the wild 
deer. 

And sought his lone cot when eve darkened each glen. 

No one had he near save his hound, true and faithful, 

Who e'er a true friend and companion had proved; 
Who had roved with his master the deep tangled wild- 
wood; 

And loved the seclusion his master thus loved. 
And oft 'neath the greenwood tree's cool shade reclining, 

The lone hunter had gazed to the eyes of his hound, 
And had seen there a look that was w^istful — e'en 
human — 

Had seen there the love that he ne'er yet had found. 

And when the wild gloom of the night veiled the forest ; 

When from the still aisles came the owl's mournful 
cry; 
When the lone whippowil sang his lay low and fitful. 

And the pines waved dark in the blue, starlit sky. 
The strange hunter-hermit sat by the small hearth-fire. 

In moody silence enwrapped, while within his heart 
burned 
A bitterness fanned by the vanity, falsehood. 

The vice, the false friendship and sin he had spurned. 

109 



He thought of the " friend ^' who had proved all -un- 
faithful; 

He thought long of her who had toyed with his love; 
He thought of the cruelty Against which he struggled, 

Which not even pleading nor prayer could move; 
Then he gazed to the true, faithful creature reclining 

Before him upon the brown, rugged oaken floor; 
And a tear dimmed his e3^e as he brokenly murmured : 

" My only companion 'mid sorrow's wild moor ! " 

One mom as the bright sun illumined the east hills, 

The hunter stole forth with his hound to the chase; — 
All about him fair nature unfolded her beauties: 

'Mid the far distant hills he new beauties could trace. 
Unconsciously wandered he on, now 'mid shadows, 

Anon 'mid the soft, golden patches of light ; 
Kor once dwelt his mind on the haunts of the wild 
game 

That startled, as neared he their homes, with affright. 

Unheeding he wandered on 'neath the green arches; 

Nor found he the happiness for which he prayed; 
Till suddenly came he upon a bright maiden — 

Sweet, innocent childhood that hither had stra3^ed. 
Fair ringlets of gold wreathed the maid's spotless fore- 
head; 

Bright eyes of the sunniest blue lit the face; 
Her bright, sunny presence dispersed his sorrow, — 

Diffused a beauty and joy thro' the place. 

With childhood's pure freedom she clasped his brown 
palm. 

And gazed all lovingly up to his face; — 
Ah ! ne'er in his wanderings his vision had rested 

Upon such bright beauty and innocent grace. 

110 



She la-ughingly prattled, and told of the cottage 
That stood at the edge of the deep tangled wood ; 

She told of the happiness clustered about her ; 
And sweetly she sued for the happiest mood. 

He asked her name while a smile wreathed his features, 

And a soft, happy light beamed bright from his eyes ; 
Her laughter rang sweetly, then answered she naively, 

And pointed toward where the hills pierced the skies : 
" Eosalie ; and I live in the cot with my mother, 

At the foot of the great hills that reach to the sky ; 
My father died when as an infant I slumbered. 

And has gone to dwell witli the angels on high." 

And thus went she on with her bright artless prattle : 

Anon rang her silvery laugh thro' the wood; 
Till at last he all sadness and sorrow had banished ; 

For who could resist the bright maid's sunny mood? 
" 0, how can you live 'mid the gloom and the shadows," 

She said, softly, ^^ when all is bright sunlight with- 
out?— 
Why dwell 'mid the solitude of the vast forest 

When happiness, beauty and joy reign without?" 

One moment the hunter gazed back to the forest, 
Then clasped the sweet maid's lily hand in his own: 

^' Come maiden," he said, " lead me to thy bright 
cottage; 

No more will I dwell 'mid the wood still and lone ! " 

Still and lone now the cabin that stands 'mid the wild- 
wood ; 
The hermit who lived thro' long years 'mid the wild, 

Had at last been wooed forth from the solitude gloomy, 
By the sweet influence of a golden-haired child ! 



Ill 



The clouds of war had rolled away, the stars shone 

brightly forth; 
The pale moon rode amid the blue, the wind was from 

the N"orth; 
Within the mystic, silver light there lay a battle-field 
Bestrewn with forms all ghastly grim that but to death 

would yield; 
The ghostly light of the pallid moon shone o'er each 

upturned face — 
Fell o'er the features pale and worn, with wild and 

straggling grace. 

The smoking cannon stood around — grim precursors of 

death ! 
How many fell to rise no more before their sulphurous 

breath ! 
There, torches flaring fitfully, gleamed in survivor's 

hands — 
The hands of those who comrades sought 'mid dead of 

that brave band; 
Above a soldier lying by a willow-bordered stream, 
A comrade and a friend bend low with eyes that pity 

beam. 

The dying form half resteth on the breast of a friend, 
Whose tears with the flowing crimson will ever, ever, 

blend ; 
The dying here gazes proudly to a cluster of bright stars. 
That are not the stars of Heaven shining through the 

moonlight bars; 
And the comrade boweth closer — closer still — to catch 

the sound 
Of one more loved sentence ere his friend rests 'neath 

the mound. 

112 



" True friend we have gained the victory — I know it by 

the dear 
Old Maryland flag that proudly waves while I am 

lying here; 
I bless yon flag, my comrade ! but a parting word to 

thee, 
To carry to the loved one^s waiting anxiously for me — 
Oh, tell them as they greet you, that loving them I died, 
That for the greeting you receive, my soul at parting 

cried ! 

" My mother ! say I bless'd her with my faltering, dying 
breath ; 

And tell her not to weep for me when I am still in 
death ; 

My father! say his son has died for the dear old State 
he loves; 

Tell him to grieve not, for he may soon bless me there 
above ; 

Tell sister, brother — all who form the sweet, sweet loved 
home band — 

That I died firmly loving them and dear ' Old Mary- 
land I ' 

Comrade farewell ! I gladly die for dear ' Old Mary- 
land !''' 

1871. 



113 



Doton Cfte Cfte^apeafee 

Like a summer cloud with a silver edge, 

When the wind is fair and the skies are blue, 
Seemeth the gallant bark that cleaves 

Proudly fair Chesapeake's waters through, 
And like the sunbeam elf in the cloud, 

Whom fancy's beaming eyes discern, 
Is the blue-eyed sailer boy that leans 

Idly at the vessel's rocking stern. 

Past beauteous sylvan shores, enwrapped 

By distance's filmy azure veil, 
Glides softly onward o'er the waters. 

So bright and tranquil now, the sail 
That beareth to the ocean blue 

This sailor boy of the Chesapeake — 
Ah ! blue-eyed lad in sailor blue, 

Whither goest thou a home to seek? 

Far in the wake, e'er growing less. 

Gleams like a pearl beside the sea. 
The sweet home-cot of yon sailor boy. 

Sailing away to the ocean free; 
And ever the blue eyes wistfully turn 

To the white speck, fast receding now. 
And two glist'ning tears dim the fair blue eyes 

As 'tis lost on the verge of cloudland glow. 

Farewell, farewell, brave sailor boy ! 

There's not a brighter home than thine 
On all thy fancy-tinted shores, 

That lie across the ocean brine ; 
There's not a home where thou wilt find 

Such chastened joys as in thine own; 
ponder this, thou sailor lad. 

When thou wand'rest in distant lands alone ! 

114 



Farewell, farewell bold sailor boy ! 

Born by the Chesapeake's leaping wave; 
Goest thou to build a castle of fame, 

Or early seek an ocean grave? 
Ah ! there is not a land where all 

The attributes that give men worth, 
More nobly are awarded than 

Within the land that gave thee birth. 

Farewell, farewell, brave sailor lad ! 

The home of thy fancy is far away, 
O'er waves of sad portent to thee. 

That, mocking, shall 'round thy vessel play. 
May safety attend, and mayest thou 

In yon far-distant land realize 
How dear was the " dear home by the Bay," 

For which thy sad heart ever cries. 

Farewell, farewell, sailor lad ! 

Thou leavest the " home of the brave and free," 
Thou leavest the dear old " stars and stripes " 

For a home and flag beyond the sea ! 
Farewell ! there is not a land as proud 

Or noble as thy own free land; 
There is not a land more chivalric 

Than thy own loved home, " Old Maryland." 

1872. 



115 



mbttttott *aD? 

Wherefore sad ? though not around thee. 

Loyal friends, all tried and true? 
Do the storm-clouds hover ever — 

E^er to mar the heavens blue? 
Do the shades of dreary winter 

Linger ^mid the spring-time clear? 
Shall the memories of the dim past, 

Cloud the dawn of brighter years? 

Smiling, bright, the happy spring-time, 

Welcomed by the violets blue, 
Comes, and, from each sunny wild glen. 

For thy smile doth vainly sue; 
Comes with forest flowers and garlands. 

And the grasses all, that blow; 
But thou sniilest not, nor ever 

Dost thy brow with rapture glow ! 

Then the summer, crowned with roses, 

Bids the south winds softly rise; 
And, with artist skill, doth mantle 

All with blue the sunny skies. 
Summer bright hath come; and sweetly 

Woodland voices come and go; 
Yet the same dark look of sadness, 

While the summer breezes blow ! 

Autumn cometh, gold and crimson 

Drape the woodlands near and far; 
And the year's sad wail is dying, — 

Borne on summer's passing car. 
Dreamy, proud, imperial autumn. 

Casts o'er earth her tender glow; 
Now thy brow is clouded — gloomy. 

And thy voice is sad and low ! 

116 



Winter cometh, with the wild winds 

Moaning o'er the hill-tops sear, — 
Wailing thro' the shadowy forest 

While the songsters flee in fear, 
But the gloomy shade of sadness 

On thy brow is deeper grown, — 
Tender memories — all — have withered; 

All thy happy thoughts are flown! 

Wherefore sad, when earth is smiling? 

E'en though winter days are come. 
Glow not, with inspiring beauty. 

All the blessed joys of home ? 
Oh ! then strive, with heart, to banish 

Memories of the dreary past; 
Cast them 'mid the winter sadness — 

'Mid the whirling of the blast ! 

1872. 



117 



Cf)e 99p0tetie0 SDf Snfinitp 

I stand upon the seashore 

And gaze upon the sea, 
Pondering the things that are beneath, 

A hidden mystery. 

Before me stretch the waters, 

Limitless, blue, profound; 
And naught I see but the vast lone waste ; 

Hear naught but the wavelets' sound. 

where are the merry sailors 

Wafted so proudly away 
By the winds, that, wandering, aimlessly. 

Over the waters stray? 

The storm's dark gloom embraced them; 

But this I surely know: 
They are safely away from human cares, 

A pitiful human woe ! 

The sunlight gilds the waters 

And silvers each wave's crest-wreath. 

But it cannot light, with its luster bright. 
The secrets that lie beneath. 

The surges and the wavelets, 

Untrammeled, light and free. 
Murmur strange tales, but 'twere just as well 

Were their music hushed to me. 

And so, from the shores earthly, 

I gaze out on the free 
And boundless ocean stretching before — 

The Sea of Infinity. 

118 



Say, where are the merry sailors, 

Wafted so proudly away 
By the winds of Fate, o'er waters in sight, 

Which are Life's bright waters gay? 

The gloom of Death embraced them ; 

But this I surely know: 
They are safely away from human cares. 

And human pain and woe ! 

The sunlight of thought gilds the waters 
And silvers each wave's crest-wreath; 

But it cannot light, with its luster bright, 
The secrets that lie beneath! 

Life's surges of thought, and wavelets, 

Untrammeled, light and free. 
Murmur strange tales, but 'twere just as well 

Their music were hushed to me. 



119 



3Jn Cf)e (SreentoooD 

By the stream I love to wander, 
When the flowers kiss the tide, 

Where the silver waters murmur 
O'er the meadow green and wide. 

And I love the vernal beauties 

When the hills, once brown and bare, 

All are clothed in Spring's bright verdue. 
And agleam with daisies fair. 

'Mid the scented fields of Summer — 

Ah 'tis here I love to rove ! 
Where the guileless bright are straying. 

All inspired by joy and love. 

But amid the greenwood shadows, — 

'Mid the quiet shade serene. 
Where the human hand has never 

Touched the forest monarch's green, 

When the silent mood o'ertakes me. 
To the woodlands green I hie; 

Where the shadows blending softly, 
On the sward reposing lie. 

From the dells, where golden sunbeams 
Pierce the arching greenwood trees, 

Come the sweets of incensed flowers, 
Floating on the summer breeze. 

Overhead bright songsters, flitting, 
Sing their Summer cadence low; 

Whispering breezes stir the branches. 
As they sigh and come and go. 



120 



0, the peaceful, happy moments, 
Where the wildwood flowers bend; 

And the trees, all draped in beauty. 
To the charm their shadows lend. 

He who rules the storm's grim fury. 
Who the pleasant sunlight gives. 

Hath ordained each nature's glory 
To the mood which joys and grieves. 

Therefore when enwrapped by sadness, 
Or when in the silent mood, 

I may find bright, happy moments 
In the mystic, silent wood. 



121 



Cfte 9i0eaSoto ILatb 

Hark ! That plaintive note is't that the meadow winds 

Waft from the fields where brown-plumed grasses 
sway,— 
And world of scented clover-blooms ? again ! — 

How sweet upon the morn of summer day, 
Comes the melody of notes I love so well ! 

Unconsciously I wander where the tall 
And feathered grasses, like the wood lake's waves, 

In harmony with soft winds, rise and fall : 
I view with longing gaze the grasses like 

A lake, set 'mid the purple hills and with 
A surf dark-brown, — in hope to there behold 

The sweet-noted songster, long to me a myth ; 
And lo! — amid the grasses' emerald sheen. 

Like glint of leaf amid autumnal woods, 
It's yellow breast like bright dandelion gleams — 

Like the star-flower in nature's happiest mood. 
Bird of Contentment! — now I name thee right — 

Harping through all the livelong summer day, 
Unto the wielders of the scythe-blades blue. 

As to the world, thy sweet Contentment lay, 
Amid the lowly grasses thou thy home 

Dost find — dost build, and rear thy young. 
From when the flags of spring-time are unfurled. 

To when the autumn's banners forth are hung. 
Thus Nature in each lovely surrogate 

Lent by her forth to mortal eye doth hold 
A lesson far more holy than that taught 

By Mammon those who sacrifice for gold 

122 



All sweeter impulses of nature; and thy song, 

Heaven-throated bird ! is reckoned wrong — 
With its divine sweet notes of melody — 

The lessons greater than by mortals sung. 
Then, 0, sing on amid the scented fields — 

Let float thy song upon the summer air — 
Anon, a triumph note, for all the world. 

At last, will succumb to charms of Nature fair ! 

1872. 



123 



Blood-red the harvest moon 
Shone in the valley 

Where the wild deer love to roam- 
Love e'er to dally. 

Down by the riverside, 

Wandered a maiden; 
Soft came the still night's breath, 

All perfume-laden. 

By the fair maiden's side 

Strolled her lover, 
Whispering low words of love. 

Over and over. 

Soon, by the riverbrink. 

Stood they together ! — 
Oft had the maiden stood 

Thus, in bright weather. 

Saith the maiden then — 
" How bright the valley ! 

How the fair harvest moon 
All his beams rallies ! " 

" Not brighter unto me. 
Are the fair moonbeams. 

Than the bright thoughts of thee, 
Gilding my day dreams." 

Thus, in low words and soft. 

Answered the lover; 
While the fair maiden's gaze 

Drooped to the clover. 

124 



" Oft have I gazed/^ said he, 
" To the moon's splendor ; 

Said I — ^ A maiden fair, 
Loving and tender, 

" ^ Doth all my heart possess ; — 

Tell me, sad moon ! 
Shall I the maid possess ? ' 

Whispered a voice — ^ Soon ! ' '' 

^^ And the moon answered, ' yes," 
Saith the maid, gladly: 

" Ah, yet I answer, ' no ' ? '' 
" No ! "—0 so sadly. 

Turned the lover then. 

To the blue heavens. 
Seeing but gloomy clouds 

By tempest driven. 

" Moon ! " cried he, wildly now, 
" Moon and bright starbeams ! 

Unto me ye gleam no more — 
Dark now my day dreams ! " 

" The moon deceiveth not ; 

Thou has not learned 
That, though my lips speak ^ no,' 

For ' yes ' my heart yearned ! " 

" Ah ! " cried the happy youth, 

" Ah, I have never. 
Now my life is bright in truth — 

Now and forever ! " 



125 



Back straight the lovers turn- 
Back to the valley, 

Weaving bright love-lays, as 
Homeward they sally. 



MORAL 



Ne'er be by " no " distracted, 

Lover and youth; 
For thou knowest the maiden 

Meaneth " yes," in truth. 



126 



ISTow slow the wild-wood nymphs unfold 
Their banners of emblazoned gold; 
O'er valley^ hill and meadow green, 
Falls brightly now a softer sheen ; 
Amid the velvet grasses gleam 
Gold-tinted, silver tufts, that seem 
But brighter patches of the light, 
Which floods each vale and hill-top bright. 
And fills with soft effulgence rare 
The ethery heights of the hazy air. 
Bright autumn beauties gild the earth — 
A clothing fair, ere winter's dearth 
Falls sadly o'er the smiling land. 
All nature's charms are softly bland 

While autumn breezes sweetly sigh : 
The golden sun, majestic grand. 

Sails proudly o'er the azure sky ; 
A dreamy charm fills each forest nook, 
And drowsily murmurs the meadow brook. 

Adown each sunny sloping hill, — 

Whose wooded heights are ever still. 

In all their solemn majesty. 

Save when the wild-birds' warning cry 

Makes all the hollow woodlands ring, 

And wand'ring winds the echoes bring, — 

Rustle the golden leaves and brown, 

Fringed with glowing crimson, till down 

At the base of the sunny liill they lie. 

Hustled together to fade and die, 

And form for the hare, whose haunt is here, 

A downy bed when the hills are sere, — 

Where, safe from the winter's icy arms. 

He may hide till the dawn of the spring's bright charms. 

127 



Yague sounds and low the soft air fill — 

The cricket brown, the plashing rill, 

Their voices sweetly blend at morn 

With reapers' cries 'mid rustling corn. 

The wind a cheering cadence breathes; 

While 'mid the antnmn-woven wreaths 

That crown the forest's changing green. 

The songbird idly swings, and, e'en, 

Its lay is softer now and low. 

With sadness touched. The winds, as they go. 

Sway to and fro the leafy bower. 

Where through the long and stilly hour 

Alone it sits and pours its lay. 

Which swells and dies so sad away 

Upon the breeze. Afar 'tis borne 

Unto the list'ning ear. At morn. 

At noontide bright, at even-time, 

It has the same low, mournful chime ! 

Now the brown partridge's voice is heard : 

Amid the shades, this autumn bird 

Loves e'er to dwell and sound his praise 

0' the golden, dreamy autumn days. 

Whene'er the sound of human tread 

Upon the rustling leaves is heard, 

A startling " whir " the silence breaks — 

The rush of many wdngs — then all 
Is silent as before, save, e'er. 

The drowsy cricket's ceaseless call. 
How pleasant now the browning woods, 
Its boughs of gold and green — nor broods 
A wintry sadness o'er the dead 
x^nd withered leaves, that form soft beds 
Beneath the pendent boughs of gold 
Which droop from forest-monarchs old; — 
Sweet comfort reigns : the partridge's cry 
Grows pleasanter as verdure dies. 

128 



Anon the soughing wild-winds bring 
Unto the ear the warning ring 
Of hunter's horn : A chilly fear 
Conies o'er the rabbit brown ; and near 
Unto his shadowed, leafy lair 
He creeps as through the brooding air 
The dread sound echoes long. Soon thro' 
The woodland conies a wailing sound — 
'Tis the distant bay of the dreaded hound 
Upon the trail. Now near they wander ; 
And parting the tangled leaves asunder, 
The forest rover 'scapes the gaunt 
And fierce pursuer. Chattering, 
The squirrel to the hoary arm 
Of some giant oak, in wild alarm 
Flees when the rabbit's tread is heard 
Amid the mazes brown, that gird 
The browning forest's leafy bed 
Of fallen foliage dark and dead. 



Unto the beatueous autumn sky, 

From many a valley cot, ascend 
The spiral wreaths. Soon far on high 

With the arching blue they sweetly blend. 
To the woodland hie, with merry shout, 

The guileless ones ; with the autumn gale 
Tossing the sunny hair about 

Each stainless brow, they tell the tale 
Of lightsome hearts untouched by care. 
Ah ! how they love the balmy air 
That rustles the crimson-tinted leaves. 
And smites together the golden sheaves 
Of rustling corn. Ah ! better they love 
'Mid the browning autumn leaves to rove, 

129 



Than household toys. Their valley home, 

The charms of glorious autumn-tide, 
Will e'er be dear, though far they may roam 

O'er the green earth's bosom fair and wide ! 
Oh ! the golden beauteous autumn days. 
Though the songsters bright have hushed their lays, — 
The autumn sky bends above us still; 
Sweet, balmy sounds the soft air fill ; 
With orient splendors, smiling, grand. 
The glorious autumn decks the land. 
E'en though the soughing wild-winds sigh 
At starry eve ; — from far on high. 
The fair moon gazes brightly down. 
Though now the skies oft wear a frown; 
Though summer beauties southward flee. 
While sad-toned breezes come and go 
And sigh, with mournful voices low. 
Through the shaggy hill-pines' swaying crest ; — 
E'en though the once fair, smiling breast 
Of earth grows sadder, as the days 

Advance, and winter storms are near, 
While autumn skies grow dull and sad, 

And frown above the hill-tops sere, — 
Around the hearth-stone pours the light 
Of happiness' fair sunshine bright ! 
Then sigh, ye wild-winds — wail and moan 
Above the brown hills sere and lone, — 
When dawn the days of sadness drear. 
Sweet Fireside Joys, so loved, appear ! 

1871. 



130 



Have YOU seen them midst the greenwood, 

In profusion, growing wild : 
From the green earth springing upward. 

When the spring came on so mild ? 

Did not the sorrow that, perchance. 

Was brooding in your heart 
As you gazed upon the flowerets. 

On the wings of love depart? 

Wee pictures of sweet innocence, 
Amidst the wildwood growing ! 

The first to hail the springtime clear 
From out the winter snowing. 

When thro' the light refreshing showers 

The April sun is beaming, 
These scented beauties of the turf. 

Deep 'midst the green are gleaming. 

In bright and modest beauty arrayed, 
They glance to the clouds on high ; 

They tell of laughing, joyous May, 
And June with its sunny sky. 

To man they bring a blessed balm. 
They banish all thoughts of care; 

They delight the happy childhood ; 
They are welcomed by the fair. 

Each bright flower brings a pleasure ; 

Snowy blossoms joys distil; 
Each small bud of spring or summer 

Has a mission to fulfil. 

1871. 



131 



Where the silver-bright Patapseo casts its waters in the 

sun, 
And the mirrored moon shines brightest when the 

summer day is done, 
In its pride, a noble city that has won the proud State's 

praise, 
With its myriad glittering beauties, meets the strangers 

raptur'd gaze ; 
And by all who dwell beneath the folds of freedom's flag 

of yore. 
As the "Monumental City" 'tis hailed: grand old 

Baltimore ! 

Here, full many a glistening column, hewn of purest 

marble white, 
Eaised in memory of heroes, pierces upward through 

the light ; 
They have gained for the fair city, o'er whose homes they 

brightly gleam. 
With a sweet and holy lustre, like the angel of a dream — 
Wide-loved " Monumental City " — oh ! a name that, 

living, will 
In the future, as the present time, a nook of patriotism 

fill! 



And a generous, courteous people, loyal to the flag so 

dear. 
From thy lonely wandering, stranger, ready are to greet 

thee here. 
To give warm and smiling welcome to each alien 

refugee, 
Who has sought the beckoning " stars and stripes " from 

o'er the heaving sea, 

132 



Generosity and Welcome, Truth and Hospitality, 
brighter mo 
wish to see ! 



What brighter monuments than these could human 



Then a health to that fair city who sustains her worldly 

fame, 
By the bright, uncrumbling monuments that uphold 

virtue's name; 
And a tear of deepest sorrow for those heroes in repose. 
Who so bravely died for country, o'er whose graves yon 

columns rose; 
Then, loved " Monumental City,^' thy fame endure 

f orevermore ; 
Prosper; raise thy honor's marble columns, dear old 

Baltimore. 

1872. 



133 



To the misty mountain summits 

Steals the day-dawn's crimson hue; 
And the pale moon's silver cycle 

Fades upon the west-sky's blue; 
While the forests, far upreaching 

To the azure mountain heights, 
Through a cleft of gray cliffs yonder. 

Woo the dazzling morning lights : 
And the ever-shining river. 

And the bright brook singing nigh, 
Now have caught the orient gleamings 

From the glowing, glittering sky. 

Like a green cloud brightened over 

By a wandering noonday ray, 
With its tassels ever swaying, 

Nods the chestnut in the day. 
Like a shell upon the sea-side 

When bright grasses hide the sands, 
Gleams the reaper's pearly cottage 

Where amid the vale it stands. 
Like the vanishing wreaths of power, 

'Bove the lowly cottage eaves. 
Silently ascend the smoke-wreaths, 

Which sweet peace to chaplets weaves. 

See the slow-paced oxen yonder. 

Wandering to the singing brook. 
And from thence — with idle footsteps — 

To a shadowy meadow nook. 
See the gleam of blue-bright scythe-blades, 

And the glinting edges's flash, 
As the reaper seeks the bright fields. 

While the blades loved rhythm clash ; 

134 



See now joyfully he glances 
To the nodding stalks of grain, 

That shall soon beneath the gray barn 
Pay their tribute to his gain. 

By the cottage-door, I linger; 

And the sweet and plantive notes 
Of the meadow larks, on breezes 

To my rapt ear ever float — 
On the breezes perfume-laden. 

Blowing from the meadow green. 
Where the new-mown hay lies wilting 

In the summer sunlights sheen. 
0, thou glorious harvest morning ! — 

How can mortal e'er repay 
Thee, Mighty Harvest Gatherer, 

For the blessings of this day ! 

1872. 



135 



3n autumn (BU 

The bars of silver light are fading now, 

The golden day dissolves 'mid Western trees ; 

An JSolian cadence sweet, yet mid and low, 

'Mid crimson boughs is breathed by dying breeze. 

The ethery heights of air have bluer grown, 
The vesper star hath hung its quivering fire, 

The rosy hues above the tree-tops lone 

Are pierced by the gray church tower's glittering 
spire. 

The gray barns all are slumb'ring 'mid the haze 
Of mellow light that wraps the faint blue hills ; 

The russet fields, where once waved bright the maize. 
Give echo sad to muffled valley mills. 

The browning autumn leaves are rustling on 
The bare and shadowy branches of the wood; 

Their radiant summer hues are faded — gone. 
And now they droop and sway in saddest mood. 

The runlet's voice is softer now, and all 
The shado\\^ air a mystic stillness holds; 

The cascade bright, where silver waters fall, 
A peacefulness within its bosom holds. 

Sounds seem receding — dying, and each note. 
Distant, subdued, piped by the drowsy quail, 

Across the veiled stubble sadly fioats. 

E'er fainter grows — soon dies a far-off wail. 

The pheasant's throbbing wing 'mid shadow'd wood 
Hath ceased its drumming, and is heard no more; 

A silence, and a sadness, cheerless broods 

O'er each giant wood-tree touched with winter hoar. 

136 



Yet e'er and anon the sounding woodlands ring 
With the owFs nocturnal hoot, foreboding, wild; 

And wandering nymphs the murmuring echoes bring, 
And bear athwart the slumb'ring hill-tops mild. 

ISTow hies the hunter from the shadowy wood, 
His trusty rifle on his broad, brown palm. 

Untiring through the day he hath sought for food, 
Now seeks he the peace of his cottage dear and calm. 

The game bag dangles by his side, well stocked 
With game, and also there is loosely strung 

His hunter-horn, which oftentimes hath mocked 
The gloomy forests — oft with joyance rung. 

Close follows in his rear the gallant hound. 

Who 'mid the tangled wild hath chased the hare ; 

'Now loiters he behind — now onward bounds. 
And shows in antic leaps his love and care. 

We pause awhile, and darker grows the scene. 
Forth from the shadows flash the cottage lights ; 

The beckoning forests now are dimly seen — 
The autumn eve hath darkened into night. 

Oh, how the autumn eve my soul does thrill; 

E'en though it brings no promise of the spring. 
Its beauties the mind with loved visions fill — 

Bright visions of the past — of life's sweet spring. 

This is the charm of autumn — this, the glow 
And wildest glory of the autumn skies ; 

All paint, with colors of the iris bow. 
The memories that all unbidden rise. 

1871. 



137 



Moonlight asleep on the mountain side — 
Moonlight over the forest weird — 

Moonlight over the glistening lea, 
That the forest shades have neared. 



Like silver chords strung 'mid the gloom, 
The gleams of the river meet my sight, 

That follows 'mid the shadowed wood 
The stretches of empyreal light. 

Through alternating lights and shades — 
Soft lights that like the silver moon 

Show 'mid the darkness — winds the gleam, 
Now lost — appearing, brighter, soon. 

Behold, a cloud obscures the moon, 
And shadows court the wide, dim lea; 

The forest shows not in the gloom; 

But the gleam of the river I still may see. 

And in the distance the white sea line — 
And there, I know, no forests stand, 

But ever, 'neath the moon's calm ray. 
The waters shine with lustre grand. 

Just like Hope's thread, the sinuous gleam- 
Now lost — then brighter than before 

By contrast with intervening shades — 
So on to Life's horizon door. 



138 



And there the portals, open wide, 
Display the grandeur ever there; 

And though the shades encompass 'round, 
The glory cheers the pilgrim's stare. 

Just like Hope's thread, the sinuous gleam- 
Now lost — then brighter, brighter, far; 

And though a cloud obscures Life's sun, 
It shines with radiance like a star ! 



10 139 



9 Summer i^igftt 3n Cfte l^illage 

Dark in the east, tlie shadows wall, 

Wildly the sunlight gleams in the west; 

Fainter now sounds the birdlet's call : 
The day has sunk to rest. 

From Heaven's vault, on the darksome night, 

Twinkle the starlets modestly gay; 
Deep in the blue they are glancing bright. 

As calmly they roll through their ethery way. 

And then the moonlight beaming pale, 

Flooding in glory the lea; 
Glimmering soft o'er mountain and vale. 

As o'er the dancing sea. 

The children from the village lawn 

The night has chased away; 
And not till the flush of the rosy dawn 

Will it echo with voices gay. 

Through the deep'ning gloom and the evening mists 
The tremulous lights of the cottages shine; 

Whil'st round their windows twine and twist 
The envious folds of the ivy vine. 

But, from this beauty, through the cottage door, 

Left wide ajar this summer night. 
We may gaze upon the oaken floor. 

And the troupe of merry children bright. 

140 



Sporting in glee, 'round the farmer's knee 

Who, rested from the weary toil, 
Nods as he thinks of his broad lands free 

From the noise and strife of the city's turmoil. 

Midst beauteous nature he would dwell, — 

Far from the city's spires — 
Where, m the green of the shady dell, 

He may list to the tiny lyres. 

How matronly the farmer's wife, 

Now that the day is done. 
Sits near him who has shared the strife. 

And comforts the little one. 

That to its mother's garments clings, 

With upturned, drowsy eye. 
And sighs while the others' laughter rings : 

For the hour of rest is nigh. 

The sunbrowned boy, the elder son, 
'Neath the waxlight sits with his book; 

With brown eyes, bright as the noonday sun, 
And braveness in each look. 

He loves his sunny, rural home, 

The brooklet and the flowers; 
Dear are the woods where he oft may roam, 

And their green and arching bowers. 

But Father Time with his staff has tapped ; 

The cottage doors now close ; 
And soon the humble cots are wrapped 

In calm and sweet repose. 

141 



How lovely those cots of the reapers 

Slumbering in quiet serene! 
With the stars keeping watch o'er the sleepers, 

And the moon gazing down on the scene. 

Happiness, joy and peacefulness — 

All, in this bright spot rest; 
And God, with divine contentedness. 

This beautiful hamlet has blessed. 

1870. 



142 



22lDrO0 SS>t Con0olation 

Why pine for the lost and departed and say 

The world is all dreary and dark. 
With nanght of fair sunshine in brightness to guide 

The lonely life-mariner's bark? 
The Present is beautiful, ever, and bright; 

The moments are laden with joy; 
Kind friends are e'er near thee — why let the Past 

Thee with it's dark moments annoy? 

Behold the bright earth when the blossoms all fair 

Burst forth at the breath of the spring, 
When the woodlands are clothed in bright green, and 
the air 

With joyfullest anthems does ring — 
Seest thou one dark vestige of winter's gloom there — 

One forest tree barren and sear? 
Ah, the columns of sadness cannot to the joys 

Of the spring-time their gloomy crests rear ! 

Should they prove untrue, who, as friends, have thee 
sought. 

When fickle Dame Fortune smiled bright. 
Remember that He, thy true friend, still remains — 

Will guide thee through darkness aright! 
Until the bright light, as the spring sunlight, gleams. 

And glows, with soft radiance, along 
The rugged Life-path, ever brightening as thou 

Drawest near to the Heavenly throng! 



143 



an act m mnrnt^^ 

The glistening snow stretched far away, 
The winter wind blew wild and cold, 

As pretty Marion sat and sighed 

Within the farm-house quaint and old. 

Alone she sat, and gazed out 

Upon the white hills far away ; 
The shadowed wood loomed brown and dark. 

The hurrying clouds frowned wild and gray. 

And whom did pretty Marion wait 
On this gloomy, windy winter's day, 

'Mid the twilight of the cheery room ? 
Was it her lover ? — ah ! but stay ! 

Amid the blending forest shades, 

Just where the meadow fence doth wind, 

Her eager eyes have caught the form 
Of some one ever in her mind. 

She springeth forth to greet the form. 

When lo ! a shadow passeth o'er 
The bright face of the maiden fair : 

'Tis not the form she sigheth for. 

Now, lovers two had pretty Marion: 
One, Philip Clair — a manly youth ; 

The other seemed, to all, perfection. 

But vain, and scheming, sinful, in truth. 

Sweet Marion deeply Philip loved — 
Oh ! that libel were by love debarred ; 

For slander vile, by some set forth. 

Had honest Philip's good name marred. 

144 



And he who thus spake evil of 
The honest, good, and ever true, 

Was Philip's rival, sinful, weak, 

Whose heart was known, in truth, by few. 

By acting thus, he hoped to win 
The maiden's love and lily hand; 

Not that he loved her — no, not he ! 
He better loved her father's lands. 

Though Philip's truth and constancy, 
Sweet Marion ne'er had cause to doubt ; 

And though she loved his manly ways, 
To truth his frank maintenance stout, — 

A darksome doubt — a vague unrest — 
Aroused by slander's storm so dark, 

Kocked wildly in the maiden's breast 
Love's white and shining angel bark. 

The form within the rustic door, 

Now woke the maiden from her dreams : 

It is a face through whose comeliness 
A hidden spirit ever beams! 

And soon within the cheery room, 
The wicked tempter laid his snares. 

He spoke of Philip's faithlessness; 

He said, — " Oh, naught for thee he cares ! 

" Into the lowest, darkest depths 
Of infamy, and vice, and debt. 

E'en now, perhaps, he lies ; mayhap 
What sternest justice fully met ! " 

And then he spoke of gold and lands, 
And lastly spoke of love to her. 

While on his hand a glittering gem 
Anon flashed in the hearth-fire's glare. 

145 



Thus falsely wooed, poor Marion, 

Her soul by evil genius rent, 
Almost had yielded to his lures, 

And lived forever to repent. 

When lo ! a manly form she sees 
Amid the whirling winter's snow ; 

And hope and wild expectancy 
Do cause her sunny eyes to glow. 

'Tis Philip ! and e'en now shall she 
Learn from his lips his innocence ! 

The villain by her side doth quake 
With fear as seeth he her glance. 

" N"ay/^ said the tempter, " he doth come 
To gain thy hand, that thou may'st save 

His name from utter ruin and him 
From early sought infamous grave." 

The maiden answered not, but gazed 

Intently as the manly form 
A tiny feathered birdlet plucked 

From out the snow and winter's storm. 

And hid it 'neath his mantle warm, 
While from his eyes true pity beamed. 

And as the maiden rose with joy, 

The tempter's eyes with evil gleamed. 

Cried Marion, — " Now the truth I know ! 

Nor need a better, sweeter proof ! — 
Go ! vile imposter ; nevermore 

Intrude thy form beneath this roof ! " 

What was't that placed the tiny bird 
In honest Philip's path just then ? 

Ah ! answer all can give who live 
Obedient to laws of God and men. 



146 



All still and cold the mystic, starry night. 

The moon, in glory wrapped, rolls 'mid the blue — 

The pathless, deep blue heavens ; and the stars, 

With crystal, silver light, pierce thro' the shades 

That cling about the gray old forest trees, 

Upon whose hoary branches seems to sleep — 

As sleep the winds at setting of the sun — 

The Ice King^s breath congealed. Scarce perceptibly 

The few remaining leaves that cling unto 

The slender twigs, sway in the soft night breeze, 

The wide and spreading landscape seemeth as 
A vast bright crystal sea ; the curving hills. 
As mountain-waves upon whose tall crests flashes 
The whitening foam. Upon each hilltop, 'mid 
Each vale, lies heaped the pure, white, driven snow. 
Upon all this the moon her glory sheds. 

The strange wild splendor and the mystic silence. 
The bending brow of heaven gemmed with stars. 
That seem as jewels set amid the crown 
Which croAvns the brow of all eternity — 
All conspire to raise the mind above the walks 
Of earth — above the shadows — the afflictions. 
Which wrap the soul of paltry man. All pride, 
All vanity is lost as with the grand, 
The hallowed and ineffable glory 
We commune. 

147 



How beautiful, how bright, 
How dazzling is the snowy landscape. The sheen 
Of the mystic moonlight lies above it all. 
The sombre forests, through whose shadows steals 
The silver starlight, seem more beauteous for 
The lustrous light between the hoary trunks. 
As souls all pure reflect the light of love. 
And truth, and blessed religion, so the pure. 
White raiment of the winter^s night casts back 
The glory of the moon that rolls amid 
The starry crown of heaven. 

As the deep 
And stilly sadness of the winter bringeth 
The garment pure of snow, the sadness of 
The human soul doth bring sweet chastity. 
Unclouded purity, and deep commune 
With the All-seeing One — the Eternal God ! 



148 



When darkly over hill and dale, 
The twilight shades are falling, 

And wrapped in deeper quiet the vale, 
There comes a distant calling: 
Whippowil ! Whippowil ! 

N"ow dwindling low, that scarce above 
The whisp'ring winds ^tis heard; 

Now swelling forth like song of love, 
The song of the shadow bird : 

Whippowil ! Whippowil ! 

The woods loom dark Against the dark sky sea, 
And the stars shine bright above ; 

And cometh thy song unceasingly. 

From the shadowed haunt of the grove: 
Whippowil ! Whippowil ! 

So dreamily the air along. 

When moonbeams glitter bright, 

From out the woodland comes thy song, 
Lone watcher of the night: 

Whippowil ! Whippowil ! 

Thou gloatest o'er the moonlight pale — 

Yet no! for thou art hid 
In the solemn night, away from sight, 

The bowing trees amid, 
Whippowil. 

Why singest thou wdien silent are 
The birds of the sweet, glad strains, 

When sunlight illumines lands afar — 
When the sorrowing shadow reigns, 
Whippowil ? 

149 



The moon came forth from a murky cloud ; 

And swayed the darksome trees; 
And the answer came from the dim wood's shroud 

Upon the soft night breeze : 

" All things upon this earth, our God 

Sweet harmony hath lent, 
And to make beautiful the night, 
I with my voice am sent — 

Whippowil ! Whippowil ! '' 

1873. 



dtlnS out aff t^ efatr-gemmeJ 
cmtain of (^ nxQ^t came efowfp 
boron. 



150 



MAY 1 1911 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
MAY 1 "»» 




L'^RARY OF 



CONGRESS 



,20^6,211 ^';g"7 



